


Walk the Mirrored Path

by Madrigal_in_training



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Neville Longbottom, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Pureblood Culture, Pureblood Politics, Regulus Black Lives, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Sirius Black Lives, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 23:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madrigal_in_training/pseuds/Madrigal_in_training
Summary: A plea to the Albion Magicks for guidance the day before the Triwizard First Task seemed like a good idea in theory. How it resulted in the soaked and shivering form of a near-dead Regulus Black, Holly hadn't a clue. Maybe she was to use him as dragon bait? fem!Harry, Regulus x Harry, Neville x Hermione





	1. Chapter 1

_A plea to the Albion Magicks for guidance the day before the Triwizard First Task seemed like a good idea in theory. How it resulted in the soaked and shivering form of a near-dead Regulus Black, Holly hadn't a clue. Maybe she was to use him as dragon bait? fem!Harry, Regulus x Harry, Neville x Hermione_

x

"Are you sure you want to do this, Holly?" Hermione's hesitant voice repeated, as her hand steadily painted the runes on the floor. "There's no guarantee that anything useful would come out of this. We would be better off practicing the  _Accio_  charm instead."

"I've already mastered that spell, Hermione," Holly said, "Another hour or two of practice won't add much improvement."

The dark-haired Gryffindor witch had spent almost every free hour she could scrounge on the summoning charm over the last week. Her plan to outfly the dragon- which sounded more and more like the height of idiocy every time she considered it- relied heavily on calling her Firebolt to the stadium. She had even skived off of History to practice and there was no better indication of how dangerous her task would be, then Hermione's decision  _not_ to harangue her about it. The hours of relentless practice had paid off though, and her  _Accio_  was as good as it was going to get now.

There would be no additional benefit to working on the summoning charm, which is why a freshly-showered Holly was dressed in a thin, white, opaque under-robe and sitting in a ritual circle right now.

"Remember to sprinkle the plants after you light the candles," Neville reminded her, handing her the a smooth wooden bowl filled with shredded petals and leaf cuttings. Her other best friend had been the one to suggest the ritual and handle most of the planning, since he had been the one raised under Pureblood traditions.

Neville had also been the one to select her assortment of flowers and herbs. While looking down at the near-overflowing bowl didn't elicit much recognition, the Longbottom Scion had explained the symbolism to her beforehand. White heather and nettle for protection, oak leaf for strength, baby's breath for innocence, rue petals for clear vision, pink carnations for a mother's love, and, of course, holly for hope. It wasn't the happiest message, but it was a good representation of what she needed.

' _If nothing else comes out of this, at least Neville got another boost to his confidence,'_  the Potter heiress thought. For the last few years, Holly and Hermione had been working on boosting their mutual friend's lagging self-confidence, and had found that one of the best ways to do so was to acknowledge his own areas of specialty like Herbology and Pureblood Culture. Being able to help his friends with a tricky bit of knowledge- especially Hermione, who was scarily brilliant- made the wizard feel useful and capable, and had made him far more confident than his younger self.

When Holly had first met her best male friend, right after storming out of the train carriage due to the insensitive words of a redheaded prat, he had been a mess. Half-convinced that he was a Squib, forced to live under the shadow of his father, and constantly berated by his Gran, Neville had been a chilling reminder of what she could have become if the Dursleys were any more successful at ' _stomping the freakishness out of her'_. She had responded to that reminder with her normal stubborn defiance by asking the strange boy if had a compartment to sit in, and then- after receiving a stuttered negative- forcefully grabbing his hand and declaring that they would find one together. They had come across Hermione wandering around alone after being thrown out of her compartment ten minutes later and struck up another friendship. The rest, as they say, is history.

"Okay, chalk, wine, bread, flowers, and candles," Hermione counted off, "That's everything, right? We have everything? Wait, how are you going to light the candles?! I forgot to get any matches!"

"Holly's a witch, Hermione. She'll use her wand," Neville patted her shoulder, "You drew the Runic circle perfectly, and we have all of the supplies. The ritual will go perfectly."

"Don't jinx it, Neville," the bushy-haired witch groaned, though her hands stopped fluttering anxiously over one of the four tapered wax candles. Each placed for the phases of the moon- new, waxing, full, and waning- the first placed directly in front of her. "Do you want to start now?"

The ritual that they were attempting now was the dusty remnant of a Pureblood coming-of-age tradition. It would call upon the spirits of her ancestors to offer her guidance, not through direct communication but by a magical sign or act that would be carried out through the Albion Magic of Merlin. This was, obviously, a very vague description of family-infused magic that was notorious for not eliciting any reaction whatsoever and could quite possibly blow up in her face, which was why Hermione had been so against it.

Neville though had disagreed; mentioning that rituals with a base-6 arithmetic formulae and a base-4 summoning were incredibly grounded and stable. He had further pointed out that getting tricky, borderline impossible magic to work was Holly's Merlin-given gift. Finally he had concluded his argument by stating that the worst-case scenario would be that the ritual would putter out, and the best that Holly could have a better way to face a  _nesting mother dragon_ tomorrow.

Hermione had relented on that last point which was even more evidence that out-flying a dragon is a monumentally stupid plan.

"Yeah, I think I'm ready," Holly took a deep breath, forcefully shoved down her apprehension, and lifted her wand. " _Parvus Ignis."_ Her wand tip lit up like a Muggle cigarette lighter, and she moved clockwise as she lit each of the candles. Having repeated these words many times, they fell easily though not naturally from her lips.

"I, Holly of the Line of Potter, a Child of Myrddin, a Daughter of Albion, call upon the ancient magicks of the Isles to enter this circle." For a second she didn't think anything would happen, and- a brief flicker, was the candle about to be snuffed out- then the tongues of flame almost doubled in size.

' _Bloody. Hell._ ' She didn't need to look up to know that her female friend would be almost quivering in curiosity and excitement now.

"I beseech the spirits of my ancestors, of my-" Holly's voice wavered, and then firmed, "Of my mother, Lily of the Line of Evans and of my father, James of the Line of Potter to enter this circle."

Taking a handful of the shredded plants, she slowly sprinkled it around her. There was less than half a meter of space between her body and the edge of the circle, which left plenty of room to cover with petals. When she was done a strong, flowery scent surrounded her, and a tentative sniff identified it as that of lilies. Holly's stomach felt tight, even as her heart abruptly soared.

' _Are they here-'_  Behind square-framed glasses, her eyes strained forward for any hint of her parents' forms. It would be in vain though, because she knew that this ritual couldn't help them materialize. ' _I need to finish the rest of the ritual.'_

"I ask the spirit of Myrddin Emrys, Guardian of Avalon and Herald of the Dawn, to enter this circle. I offer to you bread to slake your hunger and wine to sate your thirst." She picked up the decanter of wine smuggled in from Hogsmeade and poured it over the air. Rather than splash onto the painted symbols as she had expected, the liquid faded away into nothingness before it touched the ground. The same result occurred to the small loaf of bread that she broke in two.

' _Step one down. Now I need to make the plea,_ ' the dark-haired witch reminded herself. Eyes flickering up, she saw both of her friends staring at her intently. Neville offered a weak smile of comfort, while Hermione still appeared gobsmacked by the vanished offerings.

"I find myself surrounded by my enemies, abandoned by my protectors-" Holly certainly considered herself let down by the entirety of Hogwarts negligent staff. "-and hunted by an agent of evil. Against my will, I am forced to compete in tasks of life and death. Tomorrow I must face a dangerous beast of fire and air in a gladiator game of old. I am a child, alone but for the help of few other children, and I come here to beg for protection and guidance."

The scents of lilies grew stronger in the air, and Holly drew strength from it as she picked up the chalk. She had chosen Arithmancy and Care for her electives, but this set of runes had been painstakingly beaten into her by her bushy-haired friend. Slowly but confidently, she drew out a set of runic scripts in Old Welsh.

"My soul is your conduit, my body is your vessel," These were the lines that she had been most wary of. "Channel your magic through me, and enforce your will upon the world. Protect me from my foes, guide me to new allies. I, Holly of the line of Potter, do so willingly surrender myself to you."

The last word fell from her lips. One heartbeat. Two. Thr- Holly's entire world lit up blindingly white.

' _It's working!_ ' A plethora of emotions, from shock to terror to glee, rushed through her, as the dark-haired girl's body locked still. She could practically feel her magic gushing out of her, leaving room for a different sort of energy, old and heady, to fill her body to bursting. She couldn't feel the magic spiralling up her nervous system and into her neurons, reading each memory, dream, and stray thought that she ever had. She couldn't see how the magic lit her up from within, making messy black hair fly back wildly against an invisible wind and leaf-green eyes glow like the Killing Curse.

Although she couldn't possibly know, a nineteen-year-old body held in suspended animation within a lake of inferi had also lit up like a sun. She didn't know that magic was burning through the Draught of Living Death flowing through his veins, repairing decayed nerve fibers, reversing muscle atrophy, and restarting his heart. She didn't know that with a near-silent crack the body was Apparated to the supposedly unyielding wards of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She didn't know that Regulus Black had taken a breath for the first time in fourteen years.

Holly had asked for a protector. An ally; a guide. A defender and a champion. And Magic had chosen to give it to her.

x

_This is mostly the expositional chapter where I showed a little of the trio's friendship and established the ritual that would bring Regulus Black into the story. I want to state at the very beginning that he has not aged a day since his untimely suicide/revenge mission against Voldemort, and yes, I know that the Draught of Living Death doesn't actually work that way, but I'm applying fanfiction orders on this. Voldemort created a new form of Draught of Living Death that not only puts people into suspended animation, but also keeps them from growing older. Let's just all agree that a romance between 14 year old Holly and 19 year old Regulus would be easier to read then one between 14 year old Holly and 33 year old Regulus, yes?_


	2. Chapter 2

_A plea to the Albion Magicks for guidance the day before the Triwizard First Task seemed like a good idea in theory. How it resulted in the soaked and shivering form of a near-dead Regulus Black, Holly hadn't a clue. Maybe she was to use him as dragon bait? fem!Harry, Regulus x Harry, Neville x Hermione_

x

It took a few moments for the light to fade away, and when it did, another moment for Holly to blink the irritation out of her corneas. When she had regained her sense of vision, the Gryffindor saw that the room had vastly changed. There were still ink and chalk markings on the floor, but the petals had scattered far outside of the ritual circle, the candles were burned to the very bottom, and there were only a few droplets of red wine left in the decanter. The biggest difference though was the lanky, black-cloaked figure lying curled in front of her, with Hermione's and Neville's wands trained on him.

Holly carefully got up, withdrew her wand, and took a massive step back.

"Neville, you're the one who studied Pureblood culture. Was the ritual a success or not?" It was a testament to how many difficult situations Holly Potter had been through in her short life that her voice could hold steady at this time.

"That depends on whether your bipolar luck massively worked to our advantage or totally screwed us over," the brunette wizard sighed.

"Language," Hermione rebuked absent-mindedly, eyes still focused on the prone wizard, "Well the ritual worked, and it was protection based around your family magic. He  _probably_ won't hurt us."

"I'd still feel safer if I had his wand with me," Holly replied, and then made a now-familiar motion, " _Accio_ stranger's wand!"

A slim wand shot out of the stranger's pocket and smacked against her hand. Lifting it up to her eyes showed a polished walnut wood of a darker, thicker base and a slim ivy handle design. Of more interest was the slight parallel knicks placed by the tip of the handle, which Sirius had told her were common for DMLE officers since they helped keep a quick moving duelist from losing their grip.

The man's main weapon in her grasp, she made the flick-and-swish motion once again. " _Accio_  other wands.  _Accio_  poisons.  _Accio_ weapons."

The first and second were null, but the third made her lean over to the side. A sheathed blade flew harmlessly past her, and caused Hermione to grimace. Now relatively sure that the stranger didn't pose a serious threat- her friends wands were still aimed at him after all- Holly stepped closer. He was lying face-down on the ground, and as she heaved him to his side, the green-eyed witch found that his robes were utterly soaked. More than that, closer inspection showed minute trembling throughout his body, which made sense since his skin was also freezing.

When he had fallen onto his back though, Holly stood still. Pale, aristocratic features, raven dark hair, an aquiline nose, and, should his eyelids open, she bet on striking grey eyes. The man was incredibly handsome, but more importantly, he was incredibly  _familiar_.

"He could be Sirius' twin," Hermione whispered for her. Chocolate brown eyes widened in alarm. "Holly, please, please,  _please_  tell me that we didn't just summon the younger form of your godfather from the past."

"Hermione, we didn't just summon the younger form of Sirius from the past," Holly's shock broke, and she looked up with a teasing smile. "I don't know who this is, but it's definitely not Sirius."

She had traded enough letters with her godfather over the summer to know what Sirius' old wand had been like, and it was  _not_  made of polished walnut.

"Well he certainly looks like a Black, even though there shouldn't be any more males from that House," Neville observed, "Maybe he's a more distant relation, and those traits just happened to be prominent for him? The Blacks certainly married into enough Pureblood families for that."

"Only one way to find out," the Potter decreed, and proceeded to prove that she was a Gryffindor. " _Ennervate_."

' _A dead ringer for Sirius' eyes,'_  Holly thought, as ink-black lashes fluttered blearily over confused silver-grey. The man who wore her godfather's face blinked rapidly, drawing up one hand to rub at his eyes and then looked up, confusion blurring into shock and fear. She thought to make a sound or gesture of comfort before the man suddenly propelled himself forward.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Red light tossed his body back into the wall, but the man only braced his body and rolled to the side, missing the next flash of orange-red. " _Stupefy! Furnunculus! Incarcerous! Glacias!_ "

" _Avis!"_

" _Hidera ligabis!"_

The ice-blue of her final spell managed to strike his left arm, and soon he was trussed up in Neville's rope of ivy plants as Hermione's bright yellow birds pecked at his head. "Ow! Dammit, call them off!"

"Stop trying to move," Holly snapped back, the brief rush of adrenaline fading away. " _Incarcerous._ Okay you can take the birds off. Now who the hell are you?"

It retrospect, the dark-haired witch should have expected this. "Language!"

Hermione had the grace to blush as three sets of disbelieving eyes- Holly's leaf-green. Neville's hazel brown, and the man's silver grey- stared at her. She defended her position. "Well there's no need to be rude about it."

"The lady has a point," her most recent attacker admitted, the pleasant and steady tenor of his voice contrasting with the violent way his body still shivered, "Would you care to introduce yourselves?"

"Maybe the man that popped out of nowhere and tried to attack us should offer his name first," Holly said flatly.

The silver-grey eyes that were eerily familiar to her godfather's, but also filled with a certain reserve and immediate distrust that not even Azkaban had been able to instil into Sirius, stared at her. "That man also happens to be the one divested of his wand, rudely tied to the floor, and attacked by those infernal birds. The least I could be offered is an introduction to my attackers, yes?"

"We have your knife too," Neville added helpfully.

The man turned his attention to the Longbottom Scion, and his eyes widened. " _Franklin?_ "

Her friend immediately stiffened, and after a second's confusion, Holly understood why. The only picture Neville had shown her of his parents had proved that he was a dead-ringer for his father. It's possible that this man didn't know what had happened to the elder Longbottoms, but even then… surely he knew that they were out of public society?

"Franklin Longbottom is his father," Hermione answered quietly, exchanging a brief and silent communication with Holly. She placed one comforting hand on Neville's arm, lowered her wand arm, and then fell silent as a thoughtful expression crossed her face. From personal experience, Holly knew that a theory was being debated in the Muggleborn witch's clever mind.

"That's ridiculous," the man shook his head in disbelief, "I know that his wife was pregnant, but the baby wasn't even supposed to be born for another four months! Who  _are_ you three? Where am I? How did you bring me here?!"

' _He didn't recognize me either,_ ' Holly observed. The dark-haired witch didn't consider that to be an arrogant assumption; there had been no one in the magical world that had  _not_ identified her at first sight. Mistaking Neville's identity, not recognizing her own, the specialized duelist's wand, his close resemblance to the Pureblood Black family… all of these clues felt disjointed and out-of-place.

Unarmed, soaking wet, trussed up in vines, and barely a handful of years older than her, this man didn't seem much like the protector she'd asked for either. How much help was he going to be against a mother dragon guarding a clutch of eggs? Maybe she was to use him as dragon bait?

Her lips quirked up at that thought, but knowing that she had less than twenty-four hours until the first task swiftly killed that excitement. The ritual had done… something. Someone that may or may not have been Lily Potter had responded and this young man had shown up. So someone up there certainly thought he would be of assistance to her, and maybe he would be. Appearances could be misleading. A ratty old hat and pet songbird had helped her destroy a centuries-old basilisk after all.

Holly decided to take the route of brutal honesty. Not only was she a rather straightforward person, but Dumbledore's habit of half-truths and riddles had always annoyed the hell out of her.

"My name's Holly Potter, and these are my best friends, Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. We're fourth year students from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which is where we are now. We summoned you here through an ancestor-protection ritual designed for coming-of-age witches and wizards. Specifically, I'm an unwilling champion for the Triwizard Tournament, I'm facing a mother dragon tomorrow, and I used to ritual to call for a protector."

The man blinked dazed eyes at her as he tried to absorb the onslaught of information. "That's you, by the way," Holly added, just in case the most important detail slipped by the barrage of information.

The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "What year is it?"

Holly blinked at the apparent non-sequitur, but Hermione's gasp prevented the chance to answer. The sound was delighted rather than surprised, so she supposed that whatever theory had been formed in the bushy-haired girl's brain was proven correct.

"November 23, 1994!" Hermione leaned forward and it was clear that her previous wariness had been briefly swayed by curiosity. The way Neville purposefully drew her back showed that his caution, at least, was completely intact. "You mentioned that Franklin Longbottom's wife was pregnant, so your last memory must be from 1979 or 1980! But how do you look so young? You can't possibly be over 21 or 22, but that means you were born in '72 or '73. Wands are issued at eleven years of age, though I suppose you could use a legacy wand? That's rather unfair for Muggleborn and Muggle-raised children, don't you think? You could practice so much more magic if you got a wand earlier-"

Seeing that the brunette witch was veering off into lecture-mode, Neville quickly covered her mouth with his hand once she paused to inhale air.

"Breathe Hermione!" Both her friends chorused, as Hermione's face turned pink again.

"Sorry!" the Muggleborn smiled sheepishly. "But the numbers aren't adding up right for time travel. Not to mention Pikinsor's Law on Extraneous Temporal Dissonance preventing overlaps of more than 24 hours! This is a rather strange set of circumstances, Mr… er?"

"Regulus Black," And despite the ungainly circumstances, Holly had to give him credit for the graceful way the man inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You're quite correct, Miss… Granger? My last memory is from March of 1979. I understand that this situation is rather abnormal, but do you think that you can untie me and perhaps return my wand? I give you my word that I won't attack you or your friends."

"You tried to attack Holly a few minutes ago," Neville pointed out dryly, "Why should we trust you?"

Regulus Black raised a single eyebrow. "There is no benefit to attacking any of you. If Miss Potter's words are truthful, then I'm magically bound to be her protector. If they are not, then I am not the type of person to enjoy hurting schoolchildren. In either case, I swear on the Black family honor that I will not initiate any fight against the three of you for the duration of the day."

Neville hesitated and looked over at Holly. ' _Should we trust him?'_ his eyes said.

' _Not too much,'_ was her answer. "You're not getting your wand back," Holly stated flatly, as the man's silver orbs tracked the dark wood Neville placed in his robe pocket. "We'll untie you and conjure up some blankets. Are you hungry?"

"No, but I feel like I should be famished." The Potter's cutting spell caused the ivy vines to neatly fall around him, and the keen nature of his gaze along with the wording of the formal- but not magical- honor vow gave some understanding of Regulus Black's nature.

' _He's a clever one.'_ There was no rancor to this thought; the man's cleverness might be needed to keep her alive soon. She cast a drying charm next, then a warming one, followed at last by the conjuration of a thick comforter. The OWL spell wasn't particularly difficult for her; Charms was one of her best subjects.

Holly wasn't the most academically gifted of students but she did try her best. She slept during History, muddled through Astronomy and Potions to the best of her ability, did reasonably well in Transfiguration, Herbology, and Care, excelled in DADA, liked Arithmancy, and loved Charms. She wanted to have the skills necessary to get a good job in the future. Dealing with Vernon's snide mutterings about how the most she could aspire to is working on her back in the alleyways of London had formed that desire.

' _But first I need to survive the fire-breathing mother dragon tomorrow.'_ The constant repetition of the thought didn't do much to ease the fear it brought her.

Regulus Black gracefully drew himself up to a sitting position, the blanket tightly wrapped around his lean shoulders. Neville mirrored the movement with a little less grace and Hermione sat down with obvious care. Holly just plopped onto the ground.

"Are you related to Sirius Black?" The question clearly startled Regulus because a small frown formed on his face. Holly watched that with interest; now that she thought about it, the name 'Regulus' did sound rather familiar. Now where had she heard it before?

"You know Sirius?"

"He's my godfather."

"Your godfather," the strange man drew his blanket around even closer, "Potter. The daughter of James Potter?" She nodded, and a strange mixture of emotions flit across the man's face. Recognition. Jealousy. Wistfulness. Regret. Then finally it settled into a look that she couldn't quite describe.

"Sirius is my… elder brother," Regulus explained, causing her thought process to jerk erratically.

"The Death Eater?!" Holly blurted out, another  _Stupefy_ almost forming on her lips. "He told me that you died!"

The refined features of Sirius' brother contorted into a flinch, as the young man raised his hands in surrender. The reminder that he didn't have a wand on hand kept the spell from flying from her wand.

"I am- or I was," Regulus replied, seeing the barely hidden looks of disgust on the other's faces. "I'm not sure why I was brought here, but I do think we need some honesty between us. You introduced yourself to me, so… My name's Regulus Black, and I was born the younger brother of Sirius Black in 1961. I was recruited by the Death Eaters directly out of school, but once I realized the truth of what they were doing, I grew disgusted by my choice. The Dark Lord is more of a monster than a man; he cares nothing for his followers or his cause. The only thing he wants is to amass more and more power, and he's willing to kill anyone- Muggleborn, Halfblood, or Pureblood- that stands in his way to that power."

Holly kept her wand trained on the dark-haired man. Her decision ensured that Neville and Hermione weren't moving their hands either.

Regulus Black continued. "In March of 1979, I tried to betray Him. I wanted to destroy a powerful artifact in his possession, but he had traps there that should have killed me. An army of inferi dragged me into a lake filled with- I think- a sleeping potion of some kind. That was my last memory before your ritual brought me here. I don't think that I've aged a day since."

"An army of inferi," Hermione said coolly, "That must be some artifact." As a Muggleborn, the Death Eater revelation understandably hadn't gone over well with her.

Holly's mind was stuck on another revelation. ' _This is Sirius' brother. The boy that that he thought was following Voldemort, but tried to fight against the Death Eaters. And he didn't die, but his body got… stuck? Stuck in time, in the same body from 15 years ago.'_

"What was the artifact?" Neville asked.

Regulus grimaced. "Do you know Occlumency?"

The trio exchanged looks. Neville had been taught the basics of the art before Hogwarts as the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom. He had in turn instructed Hermione and Holly, and Sirius had contributed a few tips of his own. Still the leaf-green eyed girl knew that she was little more than a novice.

"Not enough," she admitted unhappily. It seemed like they had hit a stumbling block.

"May I look at the ritual?" Regulus asked. Not seeing the risk to it- the ritual was obscure, but hardly dangerous- Holly nodded, and Hermione passed her notes over. Regulus Black was just as quick a reader as her best friend because it took only a few minutes for him to shuffle past the several feet of parchment work Hermione had carefully compiled in her short, neat handwriting.

His brow furrowed and Holly's all-too-helpful full-blown hormones kindly pointed out that the halting expression didn't at all detract from the man's handsome features. Finally Regulus Black looked up and there was a  _glint_  to those silver-grey orbs as they focused on the raven-haired girl.

"The ritual formed a magical bond between us," Regulus Black's features were inscrutable, his tone utterly bland.

"Excuse me," Hermione looked baffled, "Like a life debt?"

"No. Miss Potter may have inadvertently saved my life, but since that wasn't her intention, she can't claim a magical debt for it," Regulus refused to avert his eyes from her own, "I don't know what type of connection this ritual served, but since your words specifically requested protection and guidance in the form of allies, it shouldn't harm you. It may be a Champion's Bond."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what that is," Hermione admitted, looking rather more irritated than apologetic.

"A Champion's Bond is the general label for all sworn fealty oaths. They fell out of favor well before the Statute of Secrecy was signed," Regulus cocked his head, "Of course, it requires consent from the vassal in question, which I never gave and thus the fledgling bond forming is weak."

Holly's stomach clenched. She was the not-so-ladylike damsel-in-distress about to face a dragon as her Death Eater wizard-knight walked away. What a twisted fairytale this was starting to be. "You want to cut the bond now?"

"Not at all," A tiny, aloof smile crossed Regulus Black's face, "I am a Black. I acknowledge my debts. Tell me, Miss Potter, have you ever heard of an Unbreakable Vow?"

x

_If anyone's wondering why Regulus isn't completely freaking out right now, the answer is that his Occlumency Barriers are holding back a maelstrom of emotions now. Don't worry; he'll work through them soon. Also, one of my readers- naraku- pointed out that there was an error in the first chapter and that Regulus was 18 when he died. 18 will be Regulus' official age now. Thanks to naraku for pointing that out._

_And if anyone is wondering why Regulus is entering an Unbreakable Vow of his own volition, then let's just say that half of the above-conversation was filled with mistruths by a true Slytherin alumni._


	3. Chapter 3

' _Will you, Regulus Black, provide protection and guidance to Holly Potter to the best of your ability for the duration of the Triwizard Tournament?'_

' _I will.'_

' _Will you keep her secrets, help her allies, and offer support under your best judgement?'_

' _I will.'_

' _Will you forsake your previous Master, Lord Voldemort, to protect Holly? Will you swear to never serve him, or any other enemies of Holly Potter?'_

' _I will.'_

x

' _I need to curse something_ very  _soon before I lose my temper,'_ Regulus Black thought grimly, as he stepped into the hidden passageway behind the one-eyed witch. The slight body of his inadvertent savior and unintentional mistress pressed against him as she slipped past, and then eerily bright leaf-green eyes were revealed as the Invisibility Cloak fell past her shoulders. Though he had been snuck out by this very same cloak, Regulus couldn't help but once against marvel that such a powerful artifact was in the hands of a slip of a fourth year Gryffindor.

It hadn't even been the only useful artifact that she had on her hands. His brother's map had been a work of genius.

' _If he doesn't deck me at first sight, then I might even tell him that,_ ' the dark-haired man's grief was briefly tempered by dark amusement. There was still some minor light in the passageway but after Franklin's son and the Muggleborn witch entered, the wall closed behind them. Gutted out sconces in the wall showed the last remnants of the passageways use but Holly Potter preferred to light her wand up instead.

"This passage will lead us to directly to the cellar at Honeydukes," Sirius' goddaughter informed him. She had suggested using this method to sneak past the wards, once Regulus informed her of the need to call his family house elf. While Kreacher could technically pop into Hogwarts if he needed to, the wards would end up informing Dumbledore, which Regulus would prefer to avoid at the moment. Holly Potter had had the strangest expression on her face when he mentioned that, and the Black was sure that he had heard a faint exclamation of 'Dobby' from the Muggleborn.

Regulus was confident that Kreacher would come when summoned, but that was based on the assumption that the house elf survived the fifteen years since his 'death'. The possibility that he had not sent an ache through the Slytherin's heart; Kreacher had been the one to single-handedly raise him as his father barricaded himself in his study, his mother fell to her cruel delusions, and his brother ran to the welcoming arms of James Potter.

The man's daughter was hurrying ahead now, a conjured cloak hiding the pale skin bared by the thin ritual under robe. Regulus had insisted on the addition, ostensibly as protection from the elements but mostly due to his own discomfort with walking beside a near-nude young woman.

She was barely a young woman though, little more than a girl for all that she was thrown into the Triwizard Tournament against her will. It made Regulus feel  _slightly_ guilty for taking advantage of her situation to wrangle an Unbreakable Vow out of her. Not that he had much of a choice. As a Master practitioner of Occlumency, Regulus Black was strongly attuned to his magical core. He had noticed the fledgling bond immediately, and a look over the ritual had only deepened his ire.

It was nothing quite so innocuous as a Champion's Oath.

On the one hand, Holly Potter had inadvertently saved him from a guaranteed death where his corpse would be used as part of the Dark Lord's inferi army. He was now capable of accomplishing many goals that had previously seemed out of his reach, like reconciling with his older brother or destroying that blasted locket. On the other hand, the ritual needed to bind the protector and taking his Slytherin aversion to self-sacrifice into account, had forged a captive's thrall between them instead. Now Holly Potter had powerful control over him and his magic and, apparently, no idea that this power existed.

Entering an Unbreakable Vow was a necessary evil in this occasion. It built an unfounded trust of him in the three teens and gave him a simple matter to excuse the side effects of a captive's thrall. Miss Potter had even gone so far as to return his wand to him. More valuable was the final promise he insisted on because his brief study of the Dark Mark showed that it allowed the Dark Lord several powers over his Death Eaters, such as tracking them and crippling them with pain from afar.

He had made a magical vow to the Dark Lord, then the ritual forged another between himself and Miss Potter. Working between them would have been painful, but vows had a hierarchy and the Unbreakable Vow only strengthened his connection to the Gryffindor witch. If it came down to a struggle between the two, then hopefully his new mistress would win. Holly Potter must be a powerful witch to get that coming-of-age ritual to work, and the magic of her vow might just protect him from the backlash of forsaking the Dark Lord.

Regulus had felt guilty when he first concocted the risky plan. He was setting the magic of a fourth year witch- that also happened to be his brother's goddaughter- against one of the darkest wizards of the age. There was a good chance it could kill her. He  _did_  feel bad about that, but just not enough to drop the vow.

It was for the best. The girl was a Halfblood, a Gryffindor, and the goddaughter of his hotheaded brother. The chances of her handing him over to the Dark Lord were low, and even better, she was too naive to take advantage of the power she had over him. Her chances of survival would be increased through Regulus' assistance, and the more effort he put into developing their vows, the less likely would it be that the Dark Lord's magic would overwhelm her. If Regulus kept himself useful and relatively pleasant, they may even be able to forge a mutually beneficial partnership.

Which was important, because Regulus didn't exactly know how to  _break_  a captive's thrall.

"Holly, where are we going?" the Muggleborn- Hermione Granger- inquired softly. The Unbreakable Vow and his carefully edited condemnation of the Dark Lord, which he fully agreed with but would never have stated so explicitly if not for this company, had done the most to lessen her suspicion. Regulus had to carefully arrange his features to not allow his sneer to slip past. He was still working on the whole Muggleborns-are-our-equals belief that his brother espoused.

"The Shrieking Shack," Holly answered, sending him a wary look. The Vow had done the least to garner her trust.

' _Suspicious little thing, isn't she?'_ Regulus sighed. Although it would make it harder for him to influence her, it also kept others from doing the same. In the long run, it would help him reach his overall goal of keeping her alive, at least until he found a way to undo these bindings.

"And here I had hoped that we would never set foot there again," Franklin's son, Neville, groaned. "You should probably know this story as well since it involves your brother. Holly?"

Still leading them ahead, the dark-haired girl made a jerky motion of her head that Regulus supposed could be a nod. Franklin's son certainly seemed to think so, because he was then treated to an almost unbelievable tale of secret Animagi, werewolves, time turners, Dementors, and prophecies.

' _I always knew that rat wasn't good enough for my brother,_ ' Regulus' heart turned cold and he abruptly stopped walking. ' _Sirius could have_  died _.'_

"Mr. Black?" Hermione questioned, once he paused.

"Regulus," the dark-haired man told her, the strangest arrangement of nausea and relief growing inside him. She deserved to use his given name. He picked up the rapidly blushing girl's hand and squeezed it gratefully. "Thank you. For saving my brother."

When he did the same for the dark-haired girl in front of him, he was met with bemused leaf-green eyes. "If you hadn't cast that Patronus, he would have lost his soul.  _Thank you_."

"Of course I did," the girl looked puzzled. "Sirius is family. I wouldn't have left him behind."

The quiet self-assurance, the utter determination to protect those she regarded as family at any costs, even though she must have only met Sirius on that night, struck a note with Regulus. As a child, his favorite aunt by far had been Dorea Potter (nee Black), and though Holly Potter may not have shared a blood relation, she reminded him strongly of her great-aunt. Those words apparently sufficed for a response because the leaf-green eyes left his own, and she returned to hurrying down the tunnel.

' _She wants to find a solution to her dilemma as quickly as possible,'_  Regulus mused, returning to his walk. His most immediate concern should be a plan to deal with a mother dragon. "Miss Potter, your friend mentioned that you were able to cast a fully-formed Patronus Charm?"

x

' _If Malfoy was half as charming and persuasive as this bastard, then we would have some real trouble to deal with,_ ' Neville considered. Regulus Black was the type of Slytherin that made people justifiably wary of the green-clad students, rather than justifiably angry (like Malfoy was). All too clever and half-again as good-looking as any Dark wizard had the right to be, he was also somehow- for some reason that definitely wasn't born from basic decency or compassion- trying to help them.

Interestingly enough, a flair for the dramatic ran in both Black brothers.

"No, no, the Patronus isn't just for distraction. You're the youngest competitor there and your unorthodox entry didn't exactly warm you to the judges. You need to have an overwhelming show of power to be scored above your older competitors, and the Patronus is a post-NEWT Charm."

"But I don't want to win," Holly said plaintively, "I just want to walk out of the task with the same number of fingers and toes that I had when I walked in."

"A landslide victory will gain the admiration of the masses and possibly unnerve the Death Eater that entered you into the tournament," Regulus stated firmly, "If they plan to attack you, regardless of perceived power level, then there's no significant advantage to appearing weak. Besides, winning the Triwizard Tournament will pay off for you in the future. The money in negligible and no one believes in the eternal glory rot, but there will be apprentice offers, valuable contacts, media exposure- why are you frowning?"

"I've had to deal with one journalist already, thanks," Holly made a face, "Rita Skeeter wrote a cover article about my supposed relationship with Neville. If he wasn't some kind of Herbology genius, then he wouldn't have recognized the stain of undiluted Bubotuber pus before it hurt him!"

The brunette wizard tried not to flush in embarrassment when the calculating Slytherin regarded him. "Holly's Girl-Who-Lived title make her a target for sensationalist writers like Skeeter."

"I've never heard of the woman, though I do know her type," Regulus nodded, "What do you mean by Girl-Who-Lived?"

Neville knew that this was one story that his friend absolutely hated to share, so, after seeing the reluctance on Hermione's face, attempted to explain. "We told you that Death Eaters are targeting Holly by putting her name in the Triwizard Tournament. Did you wonder why?"

"I presumed it was due to James and Lily Potter defeating the Dark Lord," the older wizard replied, "He still exists, doesn't he? Not alive or dead, and presumably not a ghost either."

"Yes," Neville wondered if he just imagined the look of comprehension in the silver-grey orbs. "You-Know-Who attacked the Potters cottage on the Halloween of 1981. He wasn't defeated by the Potters though. He killed both of them, before casting the Killing Curse on Holly and somehow it just bounced back and killed him."

Regulus Black was staring at him. "A child. You are telling me a  _child_  killed him?"

"Dumbledore says that it was my mother's sacrifice that kept me alive," Holly interjected quietly.

The disbelief was still wholly present. "Your mother couldn't possibly be the only woman in history to stand between her child and a Killing Curse."

Now Neville was starting to feel the disbelief. "We never thought of it like that."

"I can see that," The sardonic nature of the reply was undermined by the Slytherin's next question, "Why use the Killing Curse?"

"What do you mean?" Now it was Hermione's turn to express her disbelief.

"The Killing Curse requires a great deal of magical power to cast," Regulus answered, and Neville had the rather worrying feeling that the Black was speaking from personal experience, "Even the Dark Lord was limited to three or four a day. Why cast that spell on a defenseless baby? Why was your family under the Fidelius Charm anyway?"

"They were in hiding," Holly answered, "Neville's parents were under the charm too."

"Yes, but why?" Regulus questioned, "There were many more dangerous wizards opposing the Dark Lord in those years then a few recent Hogwarts graduates. Why was he personally hunting your family or the Longbottoms?"

"We don't know," Neville said, trying to draw those piercing eyes away from his friend. He could tell, from the way her hands were clenching, that Holly was starting to get upset, though he didn't know who she was upset with. "We can't deal with that now though. We've reached the end of the tunnel. Can you cast the notice-me-not charm?"

The dark-haired Slytherin briefly eyed Holly, before his eyes shuttered blank. "It would be better if I cast the Disillusion spell on us. Hold still."

Not eager to have a Dark Wizard wave his wand in his face, Neville had to force his body still as Regulus' wand lightly tapped his forehead. From that point, it felt like an egg was being broken over him and he watched with interest as his skin faded away from view. Another spell muffled his footsteps and a third one did something that he was unfamiliar with until he almost stumbled over an invisible Hermione and realized that he couldn't smell her usual strawberry scent.

' _Is he really that paranoid?'_ Neville thought, followed by _, 'Hermione smells like strawberries?'_

Regulus Black returned to showing human emotions when an expression of distaste crossed his face as he faded into view. Scornfully regarding the dilapidated furniture, torn wallpaper, and dusty flooring, it was easy to remember that he was a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. So was Neville actually, though his family rarely acknowledged their membership in that exclusive group.

"I have to call my house elf," Regulus stated, putting his wand away. "Kreacher!"

' _Well there's another surprise,'_  the Longbottom noted a few minutes later, ' _You don't see a Dark Pureblood hugging his crying elf every day of the week._ '

x

Kreacher was shuffling across the wooden floorboards of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, halfheartedly snapping his gnarled fingers as he went along. Every time a bony snap was heard, a cloud of dust would rise from the ground, form a misshapen ball, and promptly fall apart. Thus, there was very little cleaning to have been done.

Not that Kreacher could bring himself to care overmuch for his neglected duties. He was an old elf without any family to serve- his Mistress, the last of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, had died less than nine years past. Her death had followed that of her husband and second son, both having passed beyond the Veil within months of each other. There was one son remaining, but he both scorned and was scorned by his blood family and Kreacher had little love for the impetuous, bitter wizard that had so rashly broken his mother's heart.

Had there not been the spectre of Master Regulus' final request hanging over him, Kreacher would have gladly followed his dying House to the grave.

The locket! Oh, Master Regulus' locket and poor, wretched Kreacher's inability to destroy it. To have failed his Master's dying wish! To have disappointed Master Regulus! Oh, poor, wretched, despicable creature that he was!

But what could Kreacher have done? He had tried all of his strongest magics and the cursed golden trinket had not even cracked! Master Regulus had commanded Kreacher to keep silent about his mission and the old elf had not the power to ask for his Master and Mistress' magic to complete the task that he could not. To have seen his Mistress wither away in her grief and loss of Master Regulus, to never know in what manner he had died… Poor, wretched Kreacher!

Due to the severe lack of research into mental health in the Wizarding world, the house elf known as Kreacher did not know that he was suffering from acute depression and survivor's guilt. What he did know was that each day in the darkened home of his deceased family felt a little harder than the last and that while the house was falling into pieces around him, Kreacher simply couldn't  _care_ any more.

It was in this attitude that a familiar voice echoed in his mind and a tug built on his magical core.

' _Kreacher!'_

The old elf stiffened and his face twisted into a snarl. So the impetuous mutt had the nerve to call him after all! He would go to the wizard, bound as he was by the oaths of loyalty to House Black, but he would most assuredly not be helping him! Oh, poor, wretched Kreacher  _would not_ -

-his body cracked into a house even more broken down then the ancestral Black home but his tennis-ball eyes bugged out at the figure. On first glance and with knowledge of his brother's passing, many would have assumed the dark-haired wizard to be the notorious Sirius Black, but Kreacher had  _raised_  this child…

"Master Regulus?" Shock and disbelief warred with the budding feeling of warmth rising in his chest. Kreacher refused to let himself hope. "Master Regulus, is you  _alive_?"

Ignoring his companions, Regulus Black crouched down and focused warm silver-grey eyes on the trembling, old elf. "Hello Kreacher," he said quietly, "It's good to see you."

"Master Regulus!" Kreacher's spindly little arms could barely fit around the wizard's chest as he threw himself forward. "Master Regulus is back! I missed you Master!"

"I've missed you too, Kreacher," Regulus' voice lost a measure of his typical indifference. He hugged the loyal elf back, careful not to place too much pressure on the elf's birdlike bones. Kreacher cried.

"I- Kreacher is so glad- Kreacher missed- so alone," the elf sobbed out. For a few seconds, he simply stood there, savoring the wonder of his beloved Master's heart beating again before a terrible thought came to his head. He drew back. "Kreacher- Kreacher  _failed,_ Master."

There was the momentary fear of clothes that such a revelation could incur, and worse now because he would be dismissed by the Master that he loved more than any other, but Master Regulus' calm smile brushed it away. And even the shame of dismissal, Kreacher knew, could not overwhelm the sheer joy of seeing his Master alive again.

"That's alright Kreacher," the wizard assured, "Do you still have it?" Upon the old elf's jerky nodding, he continued. "Then it shall be fine. I will handle the rest of the task."

"Master Regulus is truly a great wizard," Kreacher said reverentially, respectfully stepping back, "But how has Master escaped the lake?"

"Miss Potter here saved my life with her protection ritual," Regulus answered, gesturing towards the other people in the room. Kreacher's eyes followed his hands and rested on a scruffy-haired, diminutive witch in ugly, round glasses and a scarlet Gryffindor scarf. The old elf beamed at her.

"Kreacher thanks Miss Potter!" The house elf's connection to the Black wizard gave him a vague awareness of the tentative bond between his Master and the scrawny witch. This only increased Kreacher's esteem of the Girl-Who-Lived. "Miss Potter must be a most powerful witch."

In Kreacher's enthusiasm, he missed the other wizard in the room muffling his snickers and making a remark about Dobby's new competition.

"Er, yes," Holly stammered out, "Thank you."

Regulus watched the scene with bemusement. It was odd to see a witch that so casually dismissed his own gratefulness lose her composure over his elf's gratitude.

"Kreacher, I am in need of your help." The dark-haired wizard was further amused by Holly's relief at the diversion. "I need you to fetch a few books for me from the Black library. And, if possible, bring me a few of my robes. If they've all been thrown out, then bring me the closest equivalent."

"Yes, Master! I will do so at once!" Kreacher straightened up and listened attentively as a series of books were rattled off from memory by his scholarly Master. When he popped away later, it was with a newfound sense of purpose that Kreacher of House Black went about his duties.

x

"I'm starting to see why your ancestors believed you needed a protector," was all Regulus could say, as the fabled Chamber of Secrets unfolded before him. The dark-haired wizard had been skeptical of the Gryffindor's claim that she could secret him away in a perfectly secure location of the castle that was beyond even the Headmaster's grasp, but apparently he had been wrong. One such place  _did_ exist, even if it had been lost to the mists and half-tales of legend.

The cavern was at least partially submerged under the lake, Regulus could tell, from the slick walls and general dampness of the area. Gray slate and green marble, so dark it was almost black, lined the floor between parallel statues of venomous snakes poised to swoop down and grab their prey. Smooth pillars, entwined with constrictors, held up the walls and were etched with runes that the Black wizard was eager to study. At the center of the cavern was a massive petrified tree trunk extending upwards from a pool of murky water and extending from it, the bust of an ancient warlock remarkably similar to the Slytherin Common Room's portrait of Salazar.

"Hermione unravelled the secret in our second year just before she got petrified," Holly chirped, throwing him an impish smile. The brief display of mischief was all-too-familiar to anyone that had been acquainted with James Potter, but Regulus was inclined to be forgiving. He was in Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets after all.

"There's the basilisk that Holly slayed with Gryffindor's own sword," Neville pointed out, as though the massive, centuries-old, highly poisonous familiar of Hogwarts darkest Founder was an inconspicuous garden snake. "She pulled it at out of the Sorting Hat and stabbed it through the snake's mouth!"

"After you tackled the teenage shade of You-Know-Who and gave him a bloody nose," Hermione added admiringly. The brunette wizard blushed, and the Gryffindors all exchanged grins of reminiscence and camaraderie. Regulus began to wonder if he was stuck under dozens of feet of rock with three borderline-suicidal teens.

"I'm sorry, but did you say he had a teenage shade?" The Dark wizard asked. When his companion's looks started to shift into discomfort, he added. "Remember that I am under sworn oath to keep your secrets Miss Potter. I can't protect you to the best of my ability unless I know these secrets."

The appeal to the vow did the trick.

"One of our classmates got a cursed diary from Lucius Malfoy that possessed her body and used it to open the Chamber of Secrets. There were several attacks, but since no one looked the basilisk directly in the eye, there were only petrifications instead of deaths. At the end of the year, there was a message saying that a girl's body would lie in the Chamber forever. Holly and Neville went down to rescue her, defeated the basilisk, and destroyed the artifact that was controlling her," Hermione explained succinctly.

Holly wondered whether it was a trick of the gloomy lighting or if Regulus Black really was turning pale as quickly as he appeared to be.

"This shade was able to use a wand? It disappeared when the artifact was destroyed?" At their nods, he asked. "How did you destroy it?"

"I used one of the basilisk's fangs to destroy the diary." This time, Holly was certainly not misreading the smile that crossed the handsome wizard's face. The flickers of the torches underscored the clear malice evident in such an expression.

"Thank you for trusting me with this information, Miss Potter," Regulus' face smoothed back into his pleasant though aloof demeanor, "In return, I will tell you that the artifact I nearly died for is of the same make as the cursed diary. I haven't been able to find a means to destroy it yet, but now that I know basilisk venom does the trick, the Dark Lord will lose another of his treasures."

"He made more of those vile things?"

"You stole one from him?"

"You're going to destroy it?"

"Yes, yes, and as soon as I possibly can," Regulus answered, trying to hide how shaken he was at the idea that the Dark Lord made more than one Horcrux. Did not even a madman know the dangers of mutilating one's soul? "I would like to hear the rest of that story Miss Potter, and a full accounting of your other adventures as well. However our time is pressed and we need to prepare you for the first task tomorrow."

The Slytherin wizard had never enjoyed tutoring his Housemates before, so he had resigned himself to a few frustrating hours trying to push a handy spell or two into the mind of his new Mistress. Regulus was pleasantly surprised to find that all three Gryffindors were attentive and dutiful students, especially the Mug-  _Hermione_ \- that reminded him a little of himself at that age. The dark-haired wizard focused on Charms, since the reluctant Champion had already mastered a post-NEWT one, and was unsurprised that Holly Potter was a quick study.

In the nearly three hours that they trained, Regulus managed to impart a slightly stronger variant of Protego, the Scent-Diminishing Charm, and the basics of the Disillusionment Spell. He would have liked to teach her the Icicle Arrows charm too, but it was too advanced to be taught in the little time they had available. Instead they hashed out a similar effect using spells Holly could use and then an additional few plans to deal with the dragons she would face tomorrow.

While the half-visible, wavering images of the teens were practicing the Disillusionment spell, Regulus focused on another area of protection. Not willing to rely on the power of his conjurations, he took out one of the shrunken pairs of clothes that Kreacher had brought and altered them to fit Miss Potter's general build. He then proceeded to cast a bevy of spells on the cloth, imparting in each spell his unyielding demands that the magic protect the child that had unwittingly saved his life.

In the end, it had been Neville's thoroughness that alerted the group that it was dangerously close to curfew. The male Gryffindor had to deal with the complaints of both of his female friends as he shuffled them away from the lessons, Hermione's voice veering dangerously close to a whine. Regulus supported the other wizard; Miss Potter would accomplish nothing if she was dead on her feet the next day. He looked at the Longbottom Scion with greater respect as the boy gently but firmly led his bushy-haired friend away from the stack of books by Regulus' feet.

Before they left, Holly Potter looked at him with her leaf-green eyes filled with an indistinct emotion. "Thank you, Mr. Black."

' _A natural talent to make someone feel guilty is another talent she shares with Aunt Dorea,'_ Regulus thought. "You're welcome, Miss Potter."

As she turned away to leave, he discretely shot two spells at her back. The first one was a Calming Spell and would ensure that she got a good night's sleep before her battle with a mother dragon. The second one was an advanced Health Monitoring Charm that would tell him why his brother's goddaughter looked so thin and pale.

Regulus carefully pasted a smile on his face as she looked back in puzzlement. His hands were folded behind his back, as a ribbon of information spouted from the wand held beyond her view. Assuming that it had just been her imagination, Regulus was treated to one more tremulous smile- that caused yet another spike in his guilt- before Holly Potter walked away.

Only when the door closed shut behind the Gryffindors and Regulus was sure that he was alone did he bring his wand forward. The ribbon was still spiralling out of the tip, a scarlet dash of silk that was filled with far more ink than should be had for a child Holly Potter's age. Aware of his own throbbing Occlumency shields, Regulus ripped the ribbon aside and tossed it away from him. It landed beside the natural killing machine that is a basilisk, and the Slytherin made a mental reminder to rend that particular creature down for ingredients later. He didn't know what the state of his finances were yet.

Then he conjured a floating porcelain vase of white china and blue forget-me-nots. He carefully placed it on the tiles roughly four few meters in front of him.

" _Confringo."_ Porcelain shattered within a yellow-red explosion. He was trapped in a captive's thrall.

" _Confringo."_ A second one. His brother was a wanted fugitive. Sirius had nearly lost his soul.

" _Confringo."_  The Dark Lord was alive. He had made an unknown number of Horcruxes. He would see the world burn around him.

" _Confringo."_  His mother was dead. She had been a harridan; a controlling, bigoted woman that used  _Crucio_  on her own lifeblood. Regulus missed her anyway.

" _Confringo."_  James and Lily Potter were dead. Their daughter was a lovely girl that had been made into the pawn of two madmen.

" _Confringo._ " Holly Potter was a fourteen-year-old witch that was about to face an enraged mother dragon in front of a bloodthirsty crowd of baying spectators. Regulus would need some more vases.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey there, Holl-lly…" Cedric's voice drifted off as he looked at the Gryffindor witch, "You look… er, are those duelist robes?"

The question caught the attention of their Bulgarian opponent and his dark eyes quickly scanned over the diminutive witch in a professional and aloof manner. "Vou look good," he offered.

"Yeah," Cedric gulped, "Those are some nice robes, Holly."

"Thank you," Holly replied politely, confused by the way the Hufflepuff refused to meet her eyes. ' _Maybe he was feeling guilty over not telling his housemates to stop bullying me?_ '

If so, then Holly vindictively hoped that he struggled over his guilt for a long time. She had liked flying against the wizard last year and thought he was a good sort. That opinion had been harder to hold when he simply stood aside and looked away whenever his classmates jinxed her between classes.

"Valdioni's cut, zey are an exzellent choice for zis hard terrain," Fleur nodded approvingly.

Holly smiled back at the older French witch. She had been the first to protest her illegal entry into the tournament- declaring that a little girl had no place in such a dangerous competition- and while that had offended her at the beginning, Holly soon realized that it was born out of concern for her. It certainly wasn't due to fear of competition, since their occasional interactions afterward showed that the gorgeous French Veela had a  _very_ healthy self-confidence.

"Thank you. I like your robes too," Holly beamed, even though she honestly couldn't name the designer of either of their clothes. Sirius' brother had just shoved the clothes into her arms when she visited the Chamber this morning, dark circles under his eyes, and ordered her to wear them.

The outfit consisted of dark grey trousers and long-sleeved tunic, over which a fitted robe of dark forest green lay. The short-sleeved, open robe tightly covered her bodice, flared out slightly past her hips, and fell just a few inches from her feet. Runes that Neville and Hermione might have been able to read were embroidered at the edges in silver thread over leather boots charmed to make her footsteps silent and nearly weightless. Mr. Black had asked her to try them out in the Chamber and the cheerful way she bounced all over the snake statues had even cracked a smile from the dour wizard. The joyful play had lessened some of her tension when she went to breakfast afterward.

The nerves were returning with full force when Ludo Bagman entered the tent.

"Ah, there you all are!" The former Beater said jovially, catching sight of four pale-faced and worried teens, "Well, here we are, on the day of the first task! Is everyone excited?"

Upon receiving four unimpressed stares, he chuckled nervously and quickly moved on. "Right well, this will be a test of courage for the lot of you. With only your wands at hand, you'll face the daunting task of stealing a golden egg from a nesting mother dragon! The egg will contain clues for the next task, as well as being a tidy sum of prize money for you all, so try your best. My fellow judges and I will be grading you based on skill, speed, courage, and competence in this task. Any questions?"

The following silence was downright poignant in its sheer awkwardness.

"Now I have four model dragons for you all to choose from," Ludo continued chuckling, "Who wants to go first?"

"Holly zall go first!" Fleur declared, the fierce expression on her face challenging any of the others to disagree. Cedric and Viktor wisely did not.

"Thanks Fleur," the dark-haired girl stepped forward and tentatively placed her hand into the bag. She almost jerked it back out when she felt multiple tiny sets of teeth nipping at her fingers, but finally chose the one that licked her palm. In her hand was a miniature scarlet dragon with golden spikes curiously poking its nose between the barred fingers of her hand.

' _It looks like the perfect choice for the Gryffindor champion,'_  Holly's lips quirked up in amusement, using one finger to stroke the spine of the little dragon. As the others made their selections, the youngest Champion tried not to laugh at the purring lizard curled up in her hand.

"There you have it then! Miss Fleur Delacour will go first with the Swedish Snort-Snout, then Miss Holly Potter with the Chinese Fireball, then Mr. Viktor Krum with the Common Welsh Green, and finally, Mr. Cedric Diggory can tackle the Hungarian Horntail," Ludo chortled, "Nasty one, that Horntail. The task won't start for the next five minutes, but when you hear the whistle Miss Delacour, you should enter. All of the following contestants will be called by the whistle. Miss Potter, may I have a word?"

"I don't think that would be necessary, Mr. Bagman," Holly stepped closer to Fleur. The scornful look on the Veela's face convinced the jovial man not to press the issue.

"Yes, well then, good luck to you all," Ludo tried to end on a high note. "I'll be off then."

As the portly man beat a hasty retreat, Holly looked around at her fellow contestants. Fleur looked nervous but determined as the first contestant to face her dragon. Viktor appeared content with his choice of dragon, but his heavy brows were even more severe than usual. Cedric was downright pasty as he looked from his wand to the miniature Horntail and back to his wand again.

The second gift of her silver-eyed Champion burned even hotter in her robe's pocket. Holly made one of her typical impulsive decisions.

' _Mr. Black won't be happy that I gave up one of my few advantages,'_  Holly acknowledged, withdrawing a sheaf of papers bound with twine and filled with an elegant, slanted script. ' _Well I can hardly let them burn to death.'_

She promptly ripped the twine apart and shuffled through the pages in her hand. Tucking the miniature Chinese Fireball in her pocket- if she survived this, Holly was going to name her 'Lily'- the Gryffindor witch extracted the proper pages.

"Here," Holly handed the notes on the Swedish Snort-Snout over to Fleur, "This one's yours, Viktor. Cedric, you have the Horntail, don't you?"

There were fifty-two species of dragons that Regulus Black had been able to research and briefly summarize before falling asleep last night, focusing on the most common or dangerous breeds available to wizardkind. His notes were supplemented by personal observations from the overseer of one of the dragon reserves that the Black family had previously had a financial stake in. They were thorough and interesting and if Holly hadn't had pressing need of them, they would probably also be in the possessive hands of her best female friend.

"Oh, zank you Holly," Fleur looked surprised, "You zon't have to-" She looked down and blue eyes widened. "Ze Zwedish dragon is sensitive to ze light?"

"They're supposed to have long winters up there, aren't they?" Holly non-committedly shrugged, looking down at her own page. "You should read over that quickly Fleur. You start soon."

"Yes, yes, I should," the older witch agreed, furiously scanning the page. She wandered towards the other end of the tent, furiously muttering in French under her breath. Holly waved away the echoed 'thanks' from her male competitors.

"Why are you giving this to us?" Cedric asked, hovering by her shoulder. "It can't help your chances of victory."

"I don't want anyone to get hurt," the green-eyed witch stated matter-of-fact.

"That's eez a good thought to have," Viktor said seriously. "Good luck to you, Holly Potter."

As the dark-haired witch read over her notes, she became even more convinced that the Chinese Fireball was the ideal dragon for Gryffindor. Also known as the Lion Dragon, it released the longest plume of fire from its' nostrils- up to 25 feet- but was known to be unusually tolerant of its own species. Unlike all of the other dragons in the group, it also originated from a culture that esteemed dragons as symbols of strength, benevolence, and imperial dignity. In fact, China's Muggle mythology prized dragons as harbingers of rainfall and auspicious floods to grow rice yields.

The wizards in China knew that it had been due to their own weather spells that the movement of water became associated with dragons. A steady rainfall was a preferred method to show one's deference to the prideful beasts, as the burning core in their bodies enjoyed submerged in water. In fact, the Chinese Fireball was known as the only species of dragon to lay their eggs in a riverbed and have newborn that knew how to swim from birth.

The waterfall had to be of steady temperature to work though, which the icy winds of Scotland didn't match. Coupled with a dearth of springwater lakes and the rigors of travel, Holly felt quite sympathetic to how irritated the Chinese Fireball was going to be.

' _Another symbol commonly associated with the Chinese Fireball was a flaming pearl tucked under their chins or claws, which wizardkind knew to be essences of purified energy given as peace offerings to the noble beasts. I have found that the pearls last for years each and are followed by the most haunting wail of the mother dragons at their loss. Indeed, I am moved to wonder whether the energy can be identified with that of the soul, as in my research of the one pearl relinquished by a deceased Fireball, the energy returned elusive data at testing similar to other spells of the same branch._

_The Fireball's diet follows that of most of the draconic species…'_

Holly's attention drifted off from the page as the words jumbled through her mind. A half-baked plan was forming, and she was inclined to try it since the relative risks would be low. As low as it could be when trapped in a pen with a raging mother dragon of course. The time delay would cost her some points if it didn't pan out, but Holly was rather indifferent to the scores she would get. The Gryffindor witch hardly cared about the opinions of five wizards and witch for whom she had little to no respect for allowing an underage girl to illegally compete in a death match.

The thin walls of the tent didn't muffle the sound very well, so Holly was able to hear Bagman's narration of Fleur's task. The French witch had apparently used some type of magic to turn the stadium into a glittering mass of lights and judging from the ecstatic accounts, her plan was working.

It took a few more minutes until a loud roar of approval shook the stands and then a whistle blown.

Holly stood up and took a deep breath. ' _Mum and Dad, wish me well. I hope it'll still be a long time until I can see you two again.'_

She stepped outside and a wave of noise hit her. The deafening sound of boos and jeers outpaced the few pockets of cheers for her. Holly was indifferent to all of them, as her eyes focused on the closest, bottom-row seats to the tent. Neville and Hermione were sitting there, the former's face lined with grim determination and the latter moments away from breaking down in tears. Beside them was Lady Augusta Longbottom who caught her eye, and despite the worry clearly written on her face, managed to offer a regal nod.

Holly cracked a smile. Good old Lady Longbottom.

Her attention shifted to the giant scarlet dragon growling from within a nest of heated boulders, angry yellow eyes focused on her. The Chinese Fireball's serpentine body was coiled loosely around her eggs, the batlike wings extended over them as buffer against the winds of the Scottish highlands. Holly knew that this particular species was in possession of keen sight and respected power in other individuals, so despite the quaking of her feet, stood there and looked the Fireball directly in the eye.

Lily, her little Chinese Fireball, poked her head out of the pocket and growled at the larger serpent.

Holly's grip tightened in her hand as she channeled some magic into her boots. Then, bracing her legs forward, she jumped.

' _Whoa!_ ' Even with her practice in the Chambers, Holly couldn't help but be amazed as she leapt up-up-up into the air, flying well above the first two rows of the stands. Her body plummeted with increasing speed towards a boulder only twenty meters away from the Fireball, and Holly readied herself for impact.

" _Protego Specule!"_ The mirror shield snapped into existence before her, a silver-grey opaque barrier that reminded her of the Black brother's eyes, as she stumbled over the boulder and ducked behind a further one. Hot yellow-white flames poured around the shield, tongues of fire flickering at the edges, but none passed through to harm the witch. Her charmed robes endured the heat and left Holly with a sense of cool ease. She immediately felt a minute drain on her magic and cancelled the spell as soon as the flames were extinguished.

Peeking above the rock, she used one glove-bound hand to steady herself. The Chinese Fireball had stopped and looked at her with contempt. Well, that was promising. Holly raised her wand again. " _Tempus Vernum Aguamenti."_

A spring shower variant of the water conjuration spell left her wand in a burst of dazzling blue and took with it a good half of her magical core. The sudden loss of so much magic made Holly cringe in discomfort and yet a wide smile crossed her pained face. The spell condensed into a flat disc of magic in the air above her before expanding rapidly to fill their half of the stadium, growing so thin as to be transparent in some areas. From there, cool, steady rain drops began to fall down to the ground though her robes proved to be waterproof as well.

' _Regulus Black really does think of everything.'_  The leaf-green eyes of the girl were lit with pleasure as she saw the Chinese Fireball cock her head sideways in interest and then nearly preen as the rain sizzled off of her back. Her batlike wings withdrew from their protective position so that her eggs could enjoy the rainfall too.

"Chirrup?" Lily poked her head out again, delightedly opening her maw and swallowing a droplet of water that bounced off of Holly's robes.

"Not yet little one," Holly rubbed the top of her head, "When this is done I promise that I'll give you a birdbath of your own."

She noticed that the crowd had started to quieten, confusion taking place of the derision from before and merely smirked. Apparently this was news to them as well; she really did have to thank Regulus Black. Biting her lip, she clambered on top of her current boulder and tried to meet the Chinese Fireball's eyes again. She needed to earn the noble dragon's condescension.

The yellow eyes met her again, and curiosity and anticipation replaced the contempt of before. Holly prepared herself for another draining spell. " _Expecto Patronum._ "

The Patronus spell was classified as a Charm but it also fell under the far less well-known branch of Soul Magicks. It had been a topic that had fascinated Holly last year, to know why it was the antithesis of Dementors and Lethifolds and perhaps to answer the question of her Patronus' form. Holly had felt wistful pride when she learned that the Patronus was a reflection of the core values and personality of a person encapsulated in a symbol that brought them safety and protection.

Prongs bounded forward, fearless and borderline arrogant, as Holly Potter took comfort in the memory of the great man that had died for her thirteen years ago. She could hear Ludo Bagman loudly exclaiming his shock at a fourteen-year-old girl casting a fully corporeal Patronus, the awed murmurs of many witches and wizards that had likely never seen one before, and even (she would like to think) the proud boasts of her parents from behind the Veil.

Despite being a creature made purely of light and magic, Prongs' hooves made an audible clatter on the rock as he confidently walked up to the Chinese Fireball. There was a heartbeat where they looked at one another, the soul manifestation of Holly Potter against a giant mother dragon, before Prongs' head ducked down in an unmistakable bow. Even Holly's mouth dropped open when the Chinese Fireball's head lowered down respectfully a second later.

Then, without any prompting from his befuddled caster, Prongs jumped forward. The Chinese Fireball met him unflinchingly, as Prongs' body condensed together into a sphere of crystal white light that was gripped a second later by a scarlet-black clawed hand. The light glowed even brighter for a moment, a tiny sun that Holly had to avert her eyes from, before blinking out of existence.

Then it was like a sledge hammer had hit the Potter witch over the head.

"WHO ENTERS NEST?" Rumbling, ancient, bespoken of power and dignity far beyond her mere human comprehension, Holly wondered if a pickaxe was trying to cleave her head open.

' _Holly Potter.'_ It was all she could do not to fall over. ' _I was sent here to get the false egg._ '

"THE GOLDEN IMPOSTER?" The edge of Holly's sight started to become fuzzy. She would have tipped over if there wasn't someone else there with her, another mind pushing against the power flooding into her. The dizziness was blunted as though a  _Protego_  had been cast inside of her own head.

' _Yes,'_  The green-eyed witch managed to say. ' _May I have… the egg? I promise… to go…"_

"BRING RAIN. GOOD. YOU HAVE FAKE EGG," the Chinese Fireball allowed.

' _Thank you_ ,' the Potter mentally slurred out, focusing solely on the feelings of inadequacy and gratefulness that the immense presence of this creature had inspired in her. A foreign feeling tinged her head, more reptilian than human, that radiated smug satisfaction and contentment before the dragon withdrew. Holly quite marvelously managed not to fall over flat on her back.

Forcing movement to her legs, the Gryffindor witch drunkenly stumbled forward. She was far too exhausted to notice the utter silence that filled the stadium as the Girl-Who-Lived, the much maligned cheater of the Triwizard Tournament, the coward, the fool, the child that many expected to die on this day, continued to walk. She approached a nesting mother dragon, bold as brass or perhaps the scarlet that marked her collar, scooped up the heavy golden egg, nodded to the Chinese Fireball, and then walked away.

Trudging as quickly as she dared with her double-vision, Holly Potter managed to reach the medical tent before the first of the viewers snapped out of their shock. Slowly the applause started to build, growing to tremendous noise, cascading down below, until the very walls of the stadium trembled from the combined screams, cheers, foot-stomping, and praise. Holly Potter didn't notice a thing. She had already reached the closest medical cot and fallen into a dead faint.

"Chirrup?" Lily poked her head out of the pocket again.

x

There was a painful tugging on her hair. Holly frowned and absently tried to shake the sensation away. The insistent tugging continued and the leaf-green eyes peeked through slivers of sight. She was about to tell Dudley off for pulling her hair, when Holly paused. Her room didn't have blue walls sloping up into an octagonal-shape.

And it wasn't Dudley tugging at her hair but a tiny Chinese Fireball that had her jaw happily clamped around a lock of black hair.

"You can't eat that, Lily," Holly murmured chidingly, tugging her hair away from the facsimile. The force caused the dragon to tip over onto the plush pillow it was gripping and she could swear that the resultant expression on the lizard's scaly face was a pout.

"Holly, you're awake!" The green-eyed witch didn't bother to brace herself as she was tackled into one constricting, tearful, and desperate Hermione-hug. Indeed, Holly was so grateful to feel her ribs being cracked close that she returned the gesture of affection.

"If you hug her any tighter, Hermione, then you'll do what the dragon couldn't," Neville's voice interjected, and Holly moved her face from bushy brown hair to see the brunette wizard by her bed.

Hermione immediately backed away. "How are you?"

"I'm alive," Holly replied simply. There was relief and giddiness mixing in equal parts inside of her and she offered a smile to the third guest in her ward. "Hello Lady Longbottom. Thank you for coming here today."

The venerable old woman sniffed. "Naturally I would come to support one of Neville's best friends. It's a mockery of Hogwart's protection that you've been forced into this farce of an international relations coupe, though you proved a credit to your school. You've done very well, child. Very well indeed."

Holly acknowledged this point but expressed her gratitude for the woman's support anyway. The dark-haired witch had never been sure where she stood with Augusta Longbottom. On one hand, the woman had graciously welcomed her into Longbottom Manor for the summer, told her stories about her mother, warned her about her godfather before the truth of Sirius' imprisonment came out, and clearly loved her grandson. On the other hand, Neville had been a total wreck before Hermione and Holly got their hands on him and she wasn't sure if she could ever forgive Augusta for that.

Casting her eyes around the room, Holly inquired to the presence of the others.

"You've been unconscious for the last few hours," Hermione explained, "It's a little before dinner now. The scores have already been tallied and you came out top, so congratulations on that. Let me get Madam Pomfrey."

"No need for that Miss Granger, I'm already here," Hogwarts' second most terrifying staff member (though Holly disagreed; Pomfrey was easily the most terrifying) bustled into the room, wand flying, and scanning her body for any ailments. "You've gotten off remarkably well, Miss Potter. Low magical core, but not borderline exhaustion, and some heightened adrenaline and cortisol to be expected after facing a  _nesting mother dragon._ "

Madam Pomfrey paused and narrowed her light brown eyes. "If I wasn't unquestionably confident that you would never cravenly enter yourself into this dangerous competition of your own will, and therefore aren't to blame for battling a dragon, then I wouldn't have let you walk out of my grasp for the next fortnight. Since I  _am_ though, you will have a calming potion and refrain from casting any spells for the rest of the day. You will visit me tomorrow-  _nine o'clock on the dot-_  for a second look."

With a more pointed glare, she continued. "And since I am aware of your reckless disregard of my orders, I will say this. If I hear even a  _whisper_  of you disregarding my orders, I will stun you and barricade you in my office for the remainder of the week. Am I understood, Miss Potter?"

Holly's heart warmed under the backhanded show of support. "Yes Ma'am."

Madame Pomfrey looked at her suspiciously for another minute, before a small smile cracked her mouth. "Congratulations on completing the first task, Miss Potter. You were remarkable."

The rest of the check-up proceeded without communication and soon Madame Pomfrey was heading back to her office having left a mint-green potion in her charge's hands. Taking a sip, Holly found out that her oldest suspicion was true. Madame Pomfrey was capable of making the potions taste decent if she wanted to!

Chugging the minty drink down with unladylike speed- Holly was utterly famished- she felt the artificial bloom of serenity filter through her blood. Dazed leaf-green orbs looked back at her friends. "Were you two the only ones to visit?"

Neville shook his head. "There were a lot of people who tried, but Hermione and I were the only ones Madam Pomfrey let in."

"Good woman, Madam Pomfrey," Holly remarked, "Lady Longbottom, I hope you weren't too put out my impromptu nap."

"After seeing a witch stare down a mother dragon, there was little that could dampen my spirits," Lady Longbottom replied, standing up, "However, I've probably tested Albus' hospitality for long enough today. I must say goodbye to Minerva and then head home. Goodbye Holly, Hermione. Be good, Neville."

"Yes Gran." The boy placed a light kiss on the elderly woman's cheek and the others watched her leave the room. "Now Holly, do you want to explain how you managed to make friends with an angry Chinese Fireball?"

"I think I should wait until we visit Mr. Black for the full story," Holly grinned mischievously, noting the way her friend's faces fell. "Tell me about the Tasks instead."

"Well Fleur used the Swedish Short-Snout's sensitivity to light against it," Hermione related, "She Transfigured large swaths of the rock into glass and then reflected dozens of beams of light around it. It was so beautiful! There were a bunch of rainbows all over the field and she snuck up to the nest and stole an egg, while the dragon buried its face in the sand. She didn't get a single injury but was so cautious as she tiptoed around the dragon, that she had the second worst time. Her score was 42 though, which is second to yours."

"Krum conjured a flute and charmed it to play a tune to lure the Common Welsh Green out of the nest," Neville went next, "But then he tried to use the Conjunctivitis curse to blind it and it stamped around for awhile. One of the eggs was smashed before Krum managed to tie its' stubby legs together with conjured rope and then steal the golden egg. He had the second-best time, but won third place overall with 39 points. The judges  _really_  didn't approve of the broken egg and it couldn't have helped that his performance came just after yours."

"Cedric had it worst of all though," Hermione sighed, "He used a pretty generic strategy; just kept transfiguring sheep, confounding them, and sending them over to the Horntail. There was a moment of excitement with the Horntail's spiked tail and that must have spooked him, because he sent another half dozen animals to the other end of the field before he would steal the egg. He got 37 points."

"So no one was seriously injured," Holly summarized, shoulders relaxing, "I'm glad Fleur did so well. I'll have to congratulate her tomorrow."

"There are plenty of people that want to congratulate you now. Gryffindor's throwing a massive house party right now and Professor McGonagall's so pleased that she's even turning a blind eye to the Firewhiskey in the punch," Hermione sniffed disparagingly, "Do you want us to tell them that you're still resting?"

"And stay in the infirmary for another second? Not a chance!" Holly declared, lifting herself out of bed, "Hermione, would you mind holding Lily for a second?"

Dropping her Chinese Fireball in the bemused hands of her best female friend, Holly looked around for her wand and immediately grabbed it. Next to it was the ostentatious golden egg that she had just recovered, which she also passed over to Hermione.

"Shall we go off then?" The Potter witch asked.

Neville's face was the picture of astonishment. "Are you, Holly Potter, willingly attending a Gryffindor blow-out party? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry Neville," Holly accepted Lily back into her pocket and tucked both hands into the crooks of her friend's elbows, "I'm not attending a party for a group of idiots that thought I cheated to get into this blasted tournament. Let's get some food from the kitchens and visit our new friend. Those housemates of ours can go and fuck off."

"Holly! Language!"

x

 


	5. Chapter 5

The second son of Orion and Walburga Black had never been one to sleep late into the morning, so it was shortly after dawn that Regulus forced himself awake. The Slytherin had conjured his sleeping materials for the night and while suitable, they lacked the comfort that specially charmed beds would have provided. He really had to get his finances in order soon or find a way to pitch travel tents to his new Mistress. The Potter family had never been lacking for gold, had they?

Stacked beside his impromptu nest of blankets and sad-looking pillow- that O in NEWT Charms had been born more of obsessive studying than raw talent- were the books he had leafed through last night. Of the half dozen Kreacher had brought him, two were on species of dragons, one covered the overseer's personal notes, and the remainder covered the history since his death. He was grateful that despite her disinclination to read, Walburga Black had never cancelled the standing order to Flourish and Blotts for copies of all the latest books to be picked up on the first of every month. One couldn't let the esteemed Black Family library fall into disrepair after all.

Regulus had focused on the dragon species first, since Miss Potter had the most pressing need of them but he had been able to skim some current history too. Between  _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ ,  _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ , and  _Modern Magical History_ , the dark-haired wizard had a rough idea about the major changes since his 'death'. James and Lily Potter's deaths didn't make much of an impression on him, except for a mild regret on behalf of Miss Potter, but the news that his elder brother had been thrown into Azkaban without trial for betraying them had utterly infuriated him. There were another eight vases that needed to be banished afterwards.

From the little Regulus could infer between the words, the Ministry and its policies hadn't changed radically from when the war ended. The idiots had elected that buffoon Cornelius Fudge, whom Regulus remembered fondly as that older Hufflepuff that he would curse between classes, and replaced Crouch with Amelia Bones, whose blazing wand Regulus had had to stare down on more than one unfortunate occasion. The real power still remained in the hands of the old and wealthy families though, since hardly any of the Death Eaters were persecuted.

Not that Regulus was surprised. Cousin Narcissa's husband was as slippery as they came.

Reading about the Lestrange's trial had filled the Slytherin with uncharacteristic distress. Franklin was his second cousin and one of the older, kinder ones that hadn't minded his younger cousin tagging along on family reunions. He remembered the overtly serious boy spending most of his time with Cousin Andromeda- they were the two eldest and mutually in agreement over the childishness of their other Black cousins- but Bellatrix must have had one fond memory of him as well. Then to torture Franklin and his wife into insanity? Over the body of his toddler son no less?

There had been another two dozen vases smashed after that revelation.

Regulus had just managed to track down and banish the last bits of the shattered china when he heard a whirring sound behind him. Although he had seen the sight before, the Slytherin alumna still looked on in fascination as the interlocking scales of the guardian snake unclicked and the door swung open. The emeralds embedded in the eyes of the flared cobra glinted eerily, extracted fangs poised as though to inject venom into the slender Gryffindor girl that nonchalantly trotted in. A few more hisses slipped out of the green-eyed witch's mouth, low and gentle compared to the malicious, high-pitched sounds that he had heard from the Dark Lord.

Regulus still wasn't sure what startled him the most. That a Halfblood Light witch had Salazar Slytherin's most famous talent or that she somehow managed to make Parseltongue sound cute.

"Have you brought the Cloak, Miss Potter?" the dark-haired wizard inquired, hurrying forward to help her balance the covered plates. The delicious scent of a full English breakfast wafted up to his nose.

"I haven't agreed to lend it to you, Mr. Black," Holly Potter said evenly, passing one plate to him and then walking over to a dry spot to gracelessly plop down. Regulus tried not to grimace as he gingerly took his own seat; he would have conjured a table, but didn't want to inadvertently offend her before getting a better reading of the Gryffindor's character.

"Were you planning to use it today?" Regulus took a tentative bite of the piping hot scrambled eggs and then quickened his pace. The Hogwarts elves' cooking was as good as he remembered. "I've already given you my word that I will return it in perfect condition."

"After the Unbreakable Vow, you don't have to keep giving your word for everything," the leaf-green eyes narrowed slightly, "Why  _did_  you make a promise on your magic anyway?"

Regulus' mouth quirked into a insincerely bright smile. "Pureblood tradition. Family honor. Personal gratitude. Perhaps even a reluctance to send a child out unprepared against a mother dragon."

His keen eyes flitted down to her plate. "Are you on a diet, Miss Potter?"

"What?" His brother's goddaughter looked startled by the shift in the conversation, "No. I'm not."

"Then you should add more food to your plate, especially protein," Regulus considered his voice remarkably even for one that had read the Potter girl's medical history only a few hours beforehand. He leaned forward and scraped his bacon over her plate before she could jerk it away. "Eat up."

"I don't really have the appetite for all this…"

"Then it's an excellent time to build that appetite up," the Slytherin interjected, "I need to run a few errands today and would like to use your cloak to escape the castle. May I borrow it?"

"Er, well," the flustered teen picked up a slice and nibbled on it to prolong her thought. Regulus waited patiently; as long as she was thinking, she was eating after all. "It's my Dad's cloak.  _Please_ bring it back in the same condition as before."

The Slytherin nodded. "I also need to make a few purchases. As I don't know the status of my personal vault…"

She stared at him blankly for a few seconds. "Oh! You need to borrow my Gringotts key?"

Regulus waited for a more vehement rejection. If she had put up this much resistence to simply borrowing an invisibility cloak, then surely she would be more reluctant to hand over gold. "Okay."

There was a baffled silence. "I'm sorry?"

"You can borrow my Gringotts key," Miss Potter's hand reached over to her throat and drew a simple necklace up. Hanging off the chain was a mokeskin pouch and from there, she extracted a tiny key. "I only have access to my trust vault and there's a withdrawal limit of 200 G monthly. Is that enough?"

' _I may have underestimated an orphan's attachment to her father's cloak,'_  Regulus considered. "That amount will be fine. Thank you."

200 G was a reasonable amount. He would be limited to the purchases he could make, but the wizard was fairly sure he would be able to pick up the most important items. Namely, a tent and some rendering tools. If he needed more, he could pawn off the less desirable artifacts in the Black House.

Remembering his own gifts, the dark-haired wizard summoned two bundles over to him. The first one consisted of his favorite old dueling outfit, shrunken down to Miss Potter's diminutive size and extensively charmed by him. The second one was a sheaf of papers that were to blame for his cramped hand. "I did some research last night and summarized the profiles of over four dozen dragon species. There's no guarantee that you'll be facing any of them, but I'm fairly sure that I have a comprehensive listing of your possible opponents."

"You did all this?" The Gryffindor witch breathed, looking slightly stunned as she put her plate down. She bent down to read the top page, using one hand to adjust her clunky glasses before they fell down her nose. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"I had plenty of rest last night," Regulus assured. His Occlumency barriers allowed him to push the mental fatigue down and meditate to develop an artificial sleep in a quarter of the time. It wasn't a long-term solution and he would undoubtedly crash after more than a week of using it, but he  _did_  feel well-rested. "I also have a set of duelist robes for you to try on. Would you mind putting them on now so I can cast the final resizing charms?"

Miss Potter paused in her bemused happiness at his support to look around the chamber. The wide open chamber without any viable barriers to hide behind. Regulus was embarrassed that it took him a second to read her dilemma. "I'll wait outside for you."

The Slytherin wizard shoved the robes into her hands, placed his empty plate down, and then walked out behind the door of the chamber. Idly running his fingers over the gleaming quartz, he wondered how he would be able to move throughout the Chamber without Miss Potter's help.

' _I should do something about that.'_  Regulus conjured a string of hollow beads and cast listening and mimicry charms on each of them.

"Er, Mr. Black? I'm done." The dark-haired girl that called from within the chamber was even more waifish than he had assumed. The hem of the robes was brushing against the floor while the tunic sleeves had slipped down to her fingertips. "It may need some resizing."

"I can see that," Regulus replied dryly, altering the robes. "How are the boots?"

"Those fit just fine," the Gryffindor stuck one foot out to reveal the dark brown leather of tanned gryphon skin. "What are the runes on them for?"

"They transfer lightweight and propulsion spells on the wearer when magic is channeled into the boots. You should practice with them before the task."

"That sounds like fun," she remarked, her eyes alit with anticipation. Regulus had thought he would have to explain the process of channeling magic to her but the Potter girl merely focused down on the runes before jumping up. " _Whooaa!_ "

The spells worked exactly as he had presumed, throwing her lightweight body almost five meters into the air. Her spine arched backward, a gleeful shout to her voice, before gravity took hold. Regulus readied his wand, prepared to cast a cushioning charm, but the dark-haired girl's body naturally maneuvered to a landing position as the runes for the lightweight charm kicked in. The Gryffindor- and it was evident now why the Sorting Hat had chosen that House- kicked one foot off the tip of the landing and flew back into the air.

"This is brilliant!" Holly Potter's gleeful shriek echoed throughout the chamber, "I love these boots!"

She started to jump around the chamber, angling her body to kick off the narrow pillars and even from Salazar's left eyebrow, laughing throughout. The natural flexibility and eye for angles inherent to all talented Quidditch players served her well as she literally bounced up and down the walls. Regulus was left mute in astonishment.

' _This is definitely Sirius' goddaughter,'_ he deadpanned, memories of his exuberant and reckless older brother coming to the fore. Despite himself, he almost found her absurd display amusing.

' _Salazar Slytherin would be so insulted by this._ ' Regulus should probably- no, definitely- stop the Gryffindor from constantly kicking her legs against the bust of the noble founder. Lingering House pride couldn't make him move from his position though. There was the simple joy of a child's play cast over the face of the orphaned and likely abused girl.

In his moments of introspection, she had moved on to the parallel rows of snake heads leading up to the main chamber. "Hey, look I'm playing hopscotch with- wha- oh!"

Inevitably unstable motion hit a slick surface and Holly Potter slipped. This particular snake had its jaw wide open to eat its prey and, since she had landed on the extended tongue, the dark-haired girl found an uncomfortable, impromptu stone slide waiting for her. There was a distinct yelp as she slid out of the snake's mouth and skidded down the floor.

There was an indistinct choking sound from the other occupant in the room, as Holly Potter clumsily stood up, tenderly rubbed her sore bum, and glared at the guilty statue. A hiss slipped out of her mouth, and despite the pleasant tenor of her voice, Regulus assumed that insults were pouring out.

He quickly hurried over before Miss Potter's temper could destroy a piece of history. The Slytherin had to exert all of his years of Pureblood etiquette to prevent himself from breaking down in laughter.

"That's enough, Miss Potter," Regulus laid his hands on the girl's shoulders to steady her. Holly looked up, the Slytherin was easily a head-and-a-half taller than her, and was momentarily taken aback by the faint smile on his handsome face. "I think you have an idea of how the boots work. Now would you mind speaking a few phrases in Parseltongue for me?"

x

Diagon Alley had seemingly frozen in time with him, such was the sheer familiarity of the cobbled street that a glamoured Regulus was walking down. There was  _Flourish and Blotts_  advertising the latest copy of Scamander's  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. A gaggle of wizards were complaining about the hike in Butterbeer tax that was implemented before the Quidditch World Cup and not yet repealed. One witch was bartering with her acne-ridden friend to enter the apothecary and get a professional opinion. Around him ebbed and flowed the sounds of normal, everyday life. This realization was more comforting than he thought it would be, as unrecognizable wizards and witches lazily passed him.

Regulus could make a few guesses for some of them though. ' _That must be a Weasley,_ ' the wizard dispassionately observed, as a muscular man with burn scars and a shock of bright red hair walked by with his mates, ' _Those brown curls belong to the Macmillans. The frumpy blonde witch must be Moria Smith with a gaggle of her own. Age certainly didn't improve that shrill voice._ '

He broke off to a side street before reaching Gringotts and walked around the massive marble building to a smaller, side door. Hidden by a rune-based Disillusionment Charm, this door was yet another example of the wealthy Pureblood need to feel superior to their fellow wizards. It was also an example of Gringotts catering to that silly need- for a price, of course.

Regulus grimaced, fished out a galleon from his robe pocket- Kreacher had found almost 14 G worth of loose change around the house- and slipped it through a hidden slot. He didn't like the frivolous waste of his meager funds but finding the door and paying the inflated fee would establish him as an important client.

The door swung open and a heavily armoured goblin sneered at him. Regulus scowled back; he had never liked that backstabbing, warmongering race. He also spelled away the glamour; an action that didn't cause the goblin to bat an eye.

"Get in here, wizard," the goblin snarled, slamming the butt of his spear against the floor, "You're drawing attention to the door."

"Then perhaps you should have purchased new notice-me-not runes, goblin." Regulus stepped inside. The corridor was lined with pale blue slates etched with images from the goblin wars. The scones on the wall burned with everlasting bluebell flames. He made a show of appreciating the walls. "I see that you have forgotten to add the Battle of Willow's Peak."

"The goblin race does not honor the death of  _traitors_."

"No, only those of craven rapists and murderers," Regulus replied airily. He recalled that one of the witches to survive Gwendolyn Village's Burning was Janet Baelish, grandmother is his quarter-goblin Charms Professor. "I need to make a withdrawal and arrange a blood test."

"Ten galleons for the blood test, five for the withdrawal," the goblin said shortly.

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. "I have a key, idiot. There are no fees for withdrawal when the key is present. The blood test is four galleons at most."

"We have recently increased the price to compensate for the more expensive ingredients."

"A 250% increase is not worth my time. I can have it tested for a quarter of that price at St Mungo's."

The goblin bared his teeth. "St. Mungo's doesn't have a  _tenth_  of the quality that Gringotts can boast."

"I don't need a complete history of my family tree for the last twenty generations," he shot back, "I'm willing to pay 4 G for the basic test."

"You mistake our sense, wizard. The bank must profit. 9 G and the results will be immediate."

"If the results were not immediate, I would have taken my business elsewhere. 5 G and I will not file a complaint for your poor service."

They haggled for a few more minutes until the goblin accepted 7 G and Regulus begrudgingly forked the gold over. The goblin's sneer deepened when a pile of sickles and knuts landed in his palms, though he thankfully mistook it as wizarding pettiness and not Regulus having only one other galleon left in his pockets.

The Slytherin was dragged to a tiny, windowless, poorly lit room next- apparently, the presumed pettiness ran both ways- and handed a feather quill. There were multiple sheets of fine parchment laid on the table but Regulus selected the one gilded in amber- any other and he would be charged for a failed potion- and wrote out his name. An invisible knife etched  _Regulus Arcturus Black_  on his hand. It healed over a second later as the words briefly glowed. Then the blood sunk into parchment and, a heartbeat later, normal black ink was scrawling name and after name on the page.

" _Father: Orion Arcturus Black, Mother: Walburga Irma Black, Brother: Sirius Orion Black, Paternal Grandfather: Arcturus Rigel Black, Paternal Grandmother: Mellania Isolde Black nee Macmillan, Maternal Grandfather: Pollux Nigellus Black, Maternal Grandmother: Irma Evendine Black nee Crabbe…"_

The names continued scrolling down the page in a direct line for five generations and then branched out to include aunts, uncles, cousins, and in-laws. When ink finally stopped spurting out of the page and the parchment flashed white-hot to quickly dry, Regulus placed the tip of his wand on the surface. He gently moved it over the surface, the words dragged along the page, until he had separated his immediate family from the remainder of the tree. One more tap magnified the image.

Regulus pushed the paper over to the observing goblin. "This information falls under Ragnarok's Treaty of 1704 for customer secrecy."

"I would like to cast a new key." Looking over, the Slytherin noted that he had never seen one of the despicable beings blanch before. The warrior-banker rallied himself up with considerable determination though and bared his teeth.

"Regulus Black was declared dead on March of 1980, exactly one year after his vital functions stopped. His gold was absorbed into the Black Vault as ordered by the Ministry Edict 12, which covered the inheritance of immediate magical family members unless specified by will," the goblin smirked. "There's no vault to cast a key for."

The dark-haired Slytherin glowered at him. "Regulus Black is  _clearly not dead_. I demand that you implement new security measures and return my gold to me immediately."

The goblin buffered his claws. "Standard banking contract specifies that all customers are subject to Gringotts bylaws on life status. Repeals are offered on a case-by-case basis, after parchment work is filed with the Ministry of Magic's Goblin Liaison Office and Gringotts Department of Inheritance. Customers can expect between 4 to 6 weeks for filing before an owl is sent for the second process-"

"Enough, goblin!" The former Death Eater gritted his teeth and flexed his Occlumency barriers forward. Cursing the disgusting creature wasn't an option for him at the time. He couldn't afford to bring the attention of the Ministry down on him at present, especially not under his true name.

"Who controls the Black Family Vault?" ' _Merlin forbid, Narcissa or her spawn get ahold of that gold…'_

"The current owner is the rightful heir to the Black family," the banker informed him. Regulus withdrew the sole galleon left to him. "Sirius Black."

' _So grandfather didn't formally disown him in the end,'_ the dark-haired wizard could barely hold in his sigh of relief. His brother could be worked with, especially if any suggestions were coached in support of James Potter's daughter. "Fetch me 200 G from this vault."

He tossed the key over to the goblin and watch his beady eyes gleam with knowledge as bony fingers rubbed over the gold. The banker undoubtedly thought that he had stolen it, but in true goblin fashion, didn't care. "Your gold will be here presently."

The goblin left the room and Regulus leaned against the desk, impatiently waiting for the sack to arrive and considering the purchases he would need to make. ' _Martin's should have the proper supplies for- ah!'_

His hand flew to his forehead, body almost doubled over in shock and pain, as a backlash of magic shredded through his outer Occlumency barrier. Biting cold and burning heat cleaved into his mind as Regulus forced his eyes open. There was nothing moving, no sounds, the room was in the same still condition… a mental attack?

' _What is this?!_ ' Regulus closed his eyes and retreated inward. Immediately his settings were replaced by burning rocks and a wide open sky. A crimson dragon with golden eyes stared directly into him; his soul bared naked to the flood of raw power encompassing her. Him. ' _Miss Potter?_ '

The magic coiled more tightly around him and he could subconsciously identify this as not the magic channelled from the dragon but the energy condensed inside of him. ' _The bond or the vow?_ '

There was an echo of thrill that Regulus Black sincerely doubted he would ever be crazy enough to feel in front of one of nature's greatest killing machines. That emotion must be from his new Mistress then, and a sign of the bond working. ' _I told her to distract the dragon with a Patronus and sneak past her! How did this happen?'_

His _her_  sight became hazy and his _her_  mind was submerged in something alien and detached. He _she_ couldn't move; his _her_  body was frozen in the barren landscape. ' _I can help with that._ '

Drawing from his core, Regulus drew himself towards the mental scapes pressing against his own. It was easy to distinguish between the ancient reptilian mind of the dragon and the more malleable, human entity of Miss Potter. A castle by the lakeside stood against a backdrop of azure and here, the Slytherin interposed an opaque, dome-shamed barrier. The light dimmed as hazy lavender snapped into place below the clouds and for a second, the entirety of Miss Potter's mental scape was open to him. The Slytherin could sense something shadowy lurking by the trees before his mind's eye fell into darkness.

' _Merlin…_ ' Regulus opened his eyes. Tiny, windowless, poorly lit room. A desk filled with fine parchment and a single blood quill. An irritated goblin sneering at him.

"Are you done napping, wizard?" A heavy sack of gold was roughly pushed into his arms.

"Is this what cretins you consider customer service?" Regulus snapped back and straightened up. He determinedly ignored the throbbing headache against his temples as he proudly stalked back outside. Merlin, did the Slytherin hope that his new Mistress survived the blasted task. Not only would Miss Potter's death devastate his brother- probably- but Regulus himself still needed protection against the Dark Lord's Mark.

Knowing that there was not much more he could do to help her from London, the wizard reapplied his glamour and went shopping. There were many luxurious options for a wizard's tent that were more suited to Regulus' preferences but he selected two simple one-bedroom-kitchenette tents instead. One was intended for his brother, though now that he knew Sirius inherited all of  _his_  gold, he would be charging him for it later. That took a healthy 142 G from the amount Miss Potter lent him.

Another 14 G was sunk into two basic plans of nutrient potions for people recovering from Dragon's Pox. Rounding up, 22 G for an advanced rendering set, 8 G for expanded crates with preservation charms, 1 G for two year's subscription to the Daily Prophet in Neville Longbottom's name, 2 G for food supplies, 3 G for six months worth of Dreamless Sleep potion, and 4 G for clothes and hygiene supplies. There were also some sickles shelled out for food.

In the end, he had 3 G and a little extra in knuts left. Regulus had never felt so poor before.

' _I have to correct this deficiency as soon as possible,'_ the Slytherin decided, ' _I can start by charging Sirius extra for anything I give him._ '

He was able to briefly assuage his concerns when he overheard one of the shoppers excitedly talking about the Girl-Who-Lived's success in the first task. Regulus heard ' _cast a corporeal Patronus'_  and ' _never saw anything like it before_ ' as the wizards walked away. Presuming that the citizens of Magical England would mourn if one of their national icons were grievously injured, the Slytherin was reasonably confident that Miss Potter had survived.

Judging from the episode at the bank, he would feel it if she had not.

Regulus completed the remainder of his shopping, Apparated back to the Shrieking Shack, conjured up a bag and then readied a care kit for his brother. ' _Let's see_ ,  _a tent, nutrient potions, dreamless sleep, food, clothing, hygiene… and Sirius owes me 85 G. With 30% interest._ '

The Slytherin wizard had been careful with his finances and his brother couldn't spend any of that gold he unfairly inherited in prison, so Regulus knew that he was good for it.

' _I'll round it down though, since he's my brother._ ' Regulus generously added this to the accompanying note and then summoned Kreacher.

"Will you be able to find Sirius, Kreacher?" The old elf's excited face upon arrival twisted to a more disagreeable expression.

"Yes, Master Regulus. Kreacher can find nasty mutt," the elf grumbled out.

Regulus ignored the tone; his brother's acrimonious relationship with the family elf was certainly not one that he wanted to involve himself in. "Excellent. Please send this over to him. And Kreacher? No permanent injuries."

Once again beaming, Kreacher offered a deep bow and then popped out. Regulus put the invisibility cloak over his shoulders, gathered up the rest of his purchases, and snuck back into Hogwarts. The hallways were filled with the occasional straggler returning from the first task and everywhere he walked, the dark-haired wizard heard excited mutterings of how the contestants dealt with their dragons. His little Mistress' name came up quite often, though the Slytherin didn't bother to stick around and eavesdrop. The task had concluded and he likely had a half hour to get to his next pursuit of the day.

Namely to destroy a piece of the Dark Lord's soul.

"Hey, what are you doing in my toilet?!" Regulus absent-mindedly cast a Confundus on the ghost, as he withdrew a string of beads. Tapping the foremost one elicited an adorable short hiss that caused the sink to fall down the floor. The second bead triggered stairs and the third closed the opening behind him.

Snapping on dragonhide gloves and taking a pair of rune-drawn pliers in hand, Regulus pulled one of the smaller fangs out of the basilisk's open maw. Then he crossed to the opposite end of the chamber, furthest from his bedroll, and took out a heavy octagonal locket. Prying open the lid would likely trigger any defenses the Dark Lord's creative mind could conceive, so instead the wizard transfigured a jar, magically strengthened it, and dropped the locket in. ' _Ostium Sugo._ '

Clear venom seeped out of the fang, gathered into an amorphous blob at the tip of his wand, and was promptly dropped into the jar by the discomforted Slytherin. Acrid black smoke trickled up as an unholy shriek echoed throughout the chamber. For the first time since Regulus Black escaped the lake of inferi, he allowed a wide smile to cross his face. It was not a particularly nice one.

' _If it wasn't a guaranteed ticket to an early death, I would track the Dark Lord down merely to tell him that it was I who used his weapon's venom to destroy a shred of his soul.'_ The dark-haired wizard could almost feel the weight being lifted from his soul; it was a minor step but he had, in some measure, redeemed himself for the acts undertaken at that monster's orders.

' _Now what should I do?'_  Regulus wondered. The Gryffindors weren't here yet and he didn't want to start rendering lest his work be paused by the trio.

Studying James Potter's remarkable invisibility cloak sounded like a good idea.

' _The man has been dead for over 13 years and yet, his invisibility cloak is in perfect condition,'_  Regulus marvelled, the spool of silvery fabric poured over his lap. He cast one of his favorite spells and grey smoke seeped up from the cloak to form arithmetic symbols. ' _How strange. The cloak practically reeks of magic but the breakdown analysis can't find any spells woven in._ '

Demiguise hair held natural capabilities for invisibility but even then spells had to be cast to weave the strands together. Was this cloak made out of hide perhaps? ' _Ostend vitae._ '

No, it wasn't made of any biological products. ' _Avem Oculorum._ '

No, the cloak wasn't made of multiple layers. It was one seamless artifact. ' _Veteris Hominem._ '

No, the cloak wasn't recently bought for Miss Potter. There were dozens of ghost prints patterned over the fabric. ' _Apscindo._ '

The grey smoke seeped out again into a series of arithmetic equations. Regulus immediately conjured a quill and parchment to write them down. He could recognize several, but most were in shorthand and he would need a proper Numerology textbook to unravel them. The top two lines used an older Welsh codex that he recognized though and he knew the cipher to translate them…

So engrossed did he become in his calculations that a good near-hour had passed before Regulus realized that neither Miss Potter nor her friends were visiting. He briefly focused down on the magical rope-like structure tied tightly around his core, gave it an experimental tug, and received a faint impression of well-being.

' _She must be celebrating her victory,_ ' the Slytherin felt mildly offended for being forgotten so easily, but the curiosity of the Potter's cloak still fascinated him. ' _She'll come down for dinner later._ '

He continued to work on his calculations but had barely made any headway when the gears within the emerald snakes began to turn. Regulus looked up to see three teenagers entering the Chamber. Placing his notes discretely against the pillow- the Slytherin would have been offended if any of  _his_ family artifacts were being studied, so he would assume the same for Potter- Regulus stood up and looked at the young girl.

She still wore his duelist robes, in near-perfect condition excepting for the minor tears on the sleeves and trousers. Her messy black hair- barely tamer than James Potter's, even though hers fell down to her shoulders- was even more windswept than usual. Her stride was balanced, her breathing steady, her leaf-green eyes…

" _Oomph._ " Her leaf-green eyes were pressed into his chest as she wrapped her skinny and surprisingly strong arms around his waist. The Slytherin almost reached for his wand before he realized that she was, for some inexplicable reason, hugging him.

"You survived the dragon," Regulus stated, matter-of-fact. He tried not to show how uncomfortable he was as he tentatively patted her back. A snort from afar showed that Neville Longbottom, at least, was enjoying this. "Good job, Miss Potter."

"Thanks to you," the witch drew back and shot him a radiant smile. "You should call me Holly."

"Regulus." He inclined his head slightly. She placed a greater measure of trust in him. Good. That influence gave his suggestions more weight.

"Chirrup!" Regulus' body stilled as he felt tiny claws scrabble up his hand. The sensation didn't hurt but it was rather disquieting to feel some unseen creature climb up his limbs. With painstaking slowness, the Slytherin drew one arm away from Potter and blinked. The miniaturized crimson dragon that he had seen in Holly Potter's mind blinked back.

"Miss- Holly, what is this?" The dragon climbed up further to his elbow and chirped again.

"This is Lily!" To his gratification, the Gryffindor had to unlock her arms from around his waist to scoop up the dragon. It reacted to her touch with a storm of happy chirps and purrs. "Isn't she adorable?"

"Yes?" There was another snort from the direction of Neville Longbottom. It seemed like someone had inherited his father's sense of humor.

"I'm going to build her a birdbath," Holly Potter declared, "Can you help me?"

' _Is she talking about some Muggle contraption?'_  Regulus question. "I'll see what I can do."

x


	6. Chapter 6

Padfoot sat back on his haunches and regarded the fat rat before him dubiously. He was hungry but another tentative sniff of the vermin brought back the scent of poison and decay. Unfortunately this was also the only prey he had caught today. Despite being in the form of a Grim, Padfoot was nominally a wizard and didn't have many hunting skills to speak of.

He was mentally debating the pros and cons of eating the rat- that amount of phosphide couldn't be harmful to an adult wizard, right?- when the Grim paused.  _Snap_.  _Snip. Snip. Snip._

Padfoot pushed himself up on his legs and looked around warily. His sharp ears twitched as he tried to pinpoint the origin of the familiar noise. A soft growl rose up his chest.

"The Mutt is sitting in filth where he deserves." A gnarly, peach-toned being that would barely reach his stomach in human form hobbled forward. Sirius' growl deepened. "My beloved Master is back and the Mutt must suffer now. Kreacher thinks this is just, oh yes, Kreacher does."

' _Elf. Bad. Dark. Stay away,_ ' Padfoot's primal mind communicated as the Grim barked several warning sounds. Undaunted, the familiar elf stepped even closer with an ecstatic smile on his pointy face. ' _Attack!_ ' Baring his teeth, the massive black dog lunged forward-

"Arf-ar-ar-arrr!" And promptly found his legs pulled into the air. Padfoot's barking became more panicked as he tried to maneuver his body around and found that it was like struggling in a bowl of thickened honey. The bat-eared creature chuckled sinisterly, his fingers still formed in a snap.

' _Move. Go. Back human. Fix.'_ A tug on his magic and the uncomfortable sensation of organs rearranging themselves as thin black hairs were sucked back into his skin occurred. Sirius reappeared.

The elf snapped his fingers again and released his captive. "Ow! Damn you- Kreacher?"

Sirius had to blink several times before he registered his most hated childhood nemesis sneering at him and then a second's jump later. "Who sent you here? Was it Malfoy?"

He scrambled up to his feet and pulled out his wand. Kreacher continued to mutter depreciations under his breath. "Oh how happy Kreacher's Mistress would be to know that her traitor son needs eat rats for his meals…"

"Answer me!" Sirius was a heartbeat away from casting a blasting charm before the old elf flinched.

"Mutt has asked a question of Kreacher. Kreacher must answer now for Mutt is Master. Poor, poor Kreacher to have such a detested Mutt for his Master," the elf lamented.

"You- I- you're  _my_  elf?!" Sirius muttered baffled, "Damn. So Granddad didn't kick me out of the family after all. Never thought he had it in him."

"Kreacher's Mistress would never find peace if she knew her traitor son was to inherit our noble House," Kreacher said balefully.

"Never mind that. Who sent you to me? As your Master, I demand that you tell me the truth."

"The  _proper_ Master sent Kreacher for the Mutt. He wanted Kreacher to bring supplies for the mutt."

"Supplies? Like food?" Sirius looked hopeful, "No, wait. Bella's in Azkaban, Andy's disinherited, and Cissa's son isn't a member of House Black. Who's the proper Master? Answer me truthfully."

"The proper Master is Master Regulus," Kreacher stated, as though this should be self-evident, "Kreacher must finish his task. Kreacher brings supplies for the Mutt."

He snapped his fingers and the box of supplies appeared. Above Sirius' head.

"OW!" By the time the dark-haired wizard managed to catch the picnic basket and press one hand against his throbbing head to temporarily lessen the pain, Kreacher had popped away. "Damn elf."

He looked down at the basket of interlocking wooden strips lying innocently in his arms, and despite her personal reservations, opened the lid. There was a swath of dark green fabric folded within, embossed with the logo for Marion's All-Purpose Survival Tents. A letter lay innocuously on top.

Sirius' throat felt tight. This was ridiculous. His brother was dead. He had gotten cold feet, tried to run away, and was killed by You-Know-Who in retaliation. Regulus was well and truly gone and Sirius had lost him well before his untimely death at nineteen years of age. If he hadn't been dead, then why hide from the public eye for over a decade? No one would be desperate enough to-

Well, there was Wormtail. Everyone had thought he was dead too.

' _Kreacher wouldn't have disgraced Regulus' memory by using it to trick me,'_ Sirius knew. But Regulus Black was  _dead_. Sirius wouldn't have gotten the Headship of the family if the favored son was still alive to claim it. But then Sirius wouldn't have gotten a newly-purchased tent if  _someone_  hadn't been there to purchase it for him.

Not ready to open the letter yet, the dark-haired wizard dug out the tent, followed the instructions neatly printed on the side in yellow lettering, and assembled it. Walking inside revealed a simple bedroom-bathroom-kitchen model stocked with other much-needed supplies. There were several piles of clothes neatly folded on the bed. A case of potions was stacked on the kitchen counter. Sirius opened the fridge and stared. Half the area was stuffed with reddish-purple spherical vegetables.

' _There are only four wizards that know how much I hate beets,_ ' Sirius thought, dazed, ' _James is dead and Kreacher would never stoop low enough to take orders from a Halfblood or a werewolf.'_

Not crying. Not crying. Not crying.

A manly wizard like Sirius Orion Black was definitely not rubbing at the wet spots below his eyes now. No, most certainly not, because the emotion that was swelling in his breast right now was somewhere between elation and pride. Sure, it wasn't Confounding the bedsheets of every Slytherin NEWT student so they woke up the next morning thinking they had undergone a sex change, but it was  _something_.

"I- I always knew you had it in you, Reggie!" The older wizard sniffled proudly, while tossing all of the beets out of his ice box. Rats were better than those dirty, stringy, sorry excuses for a root vegetable.

Still not one-hundred positive but desperately clinging to the hope that his baby brother was alive, Sirius tore open the letter.

In the graceful, slanted, smudge-free script that their parents had also drilled into him…

_Hello Brother,_

_I confess that I did not know how to begin this letter to you, but have finally settled on expressing my strongest regret first. Brother, I should never have joined the Death Eaters or championed our parent's cause. The Dark Lord is a madman that will accept nothing less than the entire world falling under his domain. He has slaughtered witches and wizards without any regard for the purity of their blood and fallen into depths of depravity that sane men would never follow to. To his accomplishments, he proudly credits rituals and spells of the darkest order, eschewing humanity, sensei, and even his soul to the pursuit of power. He is a madman and it will be to my eternal shame that I had fallen under his spell long enough to be branded as mere cattle- for that is, certainly, how he sees even his most loyal followers._

_Yes brother, my confession to you will be the words that you have always glorified from another's lips. You were correct [in your views of the Dark Lord and his cabal of fools]._

_You may wonder why it has taken me fifteen years to come to my senses in this matter. For my response, I beg your indulgence [however little that Gryffindor House has instilled in you] for a story. It was less than a year into my service to the Dark Lord that I had begun to have doubts for his crusade. Though I believed in the overarching ideals of preserving Pureblood culture and bloodlines, the recent murder of the McKinnons (whom you may recall as the only British line to boast natural astral projectors) shook me. With the exception of the renegade daughter, they had all declared their neutrality for this war. And while perhaps supporting their daughter from the sidelines undermined this neutrality, to be massacred down to the last newborn went beyond the pale of accepted warfare._

_They were civilians, too old or too young, sleeping behind flimsy wards, brother. What dangers did they pose? What victories were gained from spilling their blood- rare and magical as it was?_

_While a reserved wizard by nature, I made the- foolish, in hindsight- decision to share my concerns with our cousin. As one of the Dark Lord's chief lieutenants, Bella may have been confident enough to share these concerns with him. As one of my remaining family members, she may have been generous enough to listen to those concerns._

_I was wrong on both accounts. Lest your addled mind fail you, it will note that this is my second admittance of an error in judgement._

_In between bouts of the Cruciatus, Bella put forth the rather circular argument that they were killed because they were bloodtraitors and they had to be bloodtraitors because we killed them. It was not particularly convincing, yet after I staggered to my feet, I expressed agreement, and fled to Grimmauld Place. I resolved to put this incident out of my mind entirely but Ravenclaw had been the Hat's second choice for me, and in this incidence, the raven's curiosity struck me with a vengeance._

_For the next several months, I immersed myself in the one family room that you detested with an Atlantean's passion for Roman conquerors [the library, brother, I speak of the library]. Political treaties, history books, newspapers of the war effort and anything else that could assuage the doubt in me were consumed. Yet the more I read, the more my anxieties grew._

_Charting death notices from old issues of the Daily Prophet revealed that nearly a quarter of the Death Eater's victims were Purebloods and Halfbloods with no political affiliation. An St. Mungo's article reported a rise in the spread of lycanthropy correlating with the Dark Lord's first public attack [I understand that you are friends with a werewolf, brother, but even you must agree that contracting lycanthropy is a most vile fate]._ Of Evil Moste Tempte and Foul  _revealed the wanton destruction of ley lines by Necromantic structures._

_In so many ways, this war was doing more to destroy the world of wondrous magic and timeless history that I love than the Muggleborns ever had._

_This was not an easy revelation to accept, brother. My entire world had been stripped of its foundations and every week, I was forced to meet with wizards and witches that I deplored. Perhaps if I had been a braver man or a less prideful one, I would have turned to you for guidance. It is to my great misfortune that I was not, and am not, that man, though I assure you that you weighed heavily in my mind then. If my beliefs were wrong, I wondered, then were my brother's, so contradictory to my own, correct?_

_Indeed, this is a thought that has continued to plague me since. I endeavor to look every day through the lens I believe your eyes would show me. It is not always easy and I confess that I often falter but I am determined to become a brother that you can be proud of._

_I want you to know, Sirius, that you are a brother that_  I  _am proud of. You fought for ideals that were just and noble, and have inspired me to fight for many of the same ideals as well._

_Also, if this letter is shown to anyone, I will lock you in your Animagus form and stud you out to Muggle breeders._

_Nonetheless, time passes and the Dark Lord desired assistance for an important mission. Through my contribution to this, I learned of a priceless artifact that is closely tied to his power. From either a desire for redemption or vengeance, I know not which, I undertook a mission to destroy this artifact [and have succeeded in doing so]. The artifact was protected my magicks that have suspended me out of the realm of time. For fourteen years, I was held in an eternal sleep._

_Until the previous day, when your charming young goddaughter's ritual transported me to Hogwarts. I should have died brother, and if not for the luck of Miss Potter, I would have. She chose the ancestral, coming-of-age ritual to call for a protectors and for some reason, Magic chose me._

_On an incidental note, Miss Potter appears to be a well-mannered and talented witch, with the minor misfortune of being not quite right in the head. Do not bother with offense for this, brother, as I have seen the thousand-year-old monster that she has slain. Any child that willingly approaches a basilisk's den lacks the basic survival instinct that goes wand-in-hand with adequate mental facilities. The only other theory is that she boasts heroism and valor that even a Gryffindor would balk at and that is, quite frankly, even more horrifying._

_I cannot protect her if she willingly throws herself into danger, so this attitude cannot stand. As her newfound Protector, I forbid it._

_Of course, even when she does not seek trouble, others choose to introduce it to her. You may be aware of the dragon that Miss Potter has faced today. I do not know how she dealt with the task but I have prepared her to the best of my ability and am confident in her survival._

_While your diminutive [we must speak of this, brother, for I have concerns] goddaughter battled her dragon, I visited Diagon Alley for supplies. These provisions must last you until the following month [at least] before I can replenish them. We may correspond through Kreacher [be kind, brother, he is helping you] until I can arrange a meeting. Know that I am well and that I will do everything in my power to protect your goddaughter until you can do so yourself._

_Your brother,_

_Regulus_

_P.S. The food, clothes, medicine, and tent are not free. I expect 110 G posthaste._

The dark-haired wizard was not-wiping more not-tears off of his cheeks when he was done. Then his eye caught the postscript and the Gryffindor alumna quickly did some calculations in his head.

Sirius' tone was full of admiration as he exclaimed, "Damn hell- that bastard fleeced me!"

x

Neville was grateful for Hermione's attention to detail since it meant they had snacks to nibble on while sitting in a square-like shape on Regulus Black's transfigured table. The older wizard had conjured plates and silverware for them to use too; though why the Black used forks for chicken fingers Neville didn't know. Each of them had added their preferred amounts of their plates and, with the exception of Holly, each of them had chosen a healthy portion.

"You should take some strawberry crepes, Holly. You haven't picked any dessert choices," Hermione didn't waste any time on picking up her campaign to feed their friend more. Holly didn't waste any time protesting her 'suggestions'. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course, you like strawberries. I saw you eat a bowl of them two days ago when you refused the buttered toast I offered you."

' _I think Holly has another side to defend from,_ ' the Longbottom scion observed, biting into his own scone. Regulus Black took the distraction offered by the Gryffindor's haranguing to bypass Holly and add food directly to her plate. Neville was even more amused when his brunette friend abruptly ended her argument with a demure smile and a triumphant glimmer to her chocolate brown eyes. ' _People underestimate just how sneaky and underhanded Hermione can be when she thinks she's in the right._ '

Holly looked suspiciously at the silent witch before turning her attention to her plate and groaning. "This is not cool, Neville. I thought you were on my side."

"I'm on your side on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays," he corrected, "The other days belong to Hermione and on Sunday, I'm neutral and officially exempt from all arguments."

"Today is my day," the Potter heiress sulked, breaking off a brownie crumb and offering it to the miniature Chinese Fireball on her shoulder, "Hungry Lily?"

"Are simulacrums capable of eating?" Hermione inquired, content to see her friend take her own bite.

"She swallowed a raindrop already so I don't see the harm in trying to feed her," Holly smiled delightedly when sharp little teeth nibbled at her fingertips. "Is there a way to test how long the magic will last?"

"Simulacrums absorb minute amounts of magic from their surroundings though that thread can be disrupted by a simple fifth-year spell," Regulus answered, "I can cast a spell to transfer the link to your own magic. It would make it harder to disrupt but cost you a small amount every day."

At the green-eyed witch's enthusiastic nod, he performed the spell. "Now why don't you explain why your mind was being cleaved open during the task?"

"You  _felt_ that?" Holly eyes widened and Neville leaned forward in curiosity. "Wait, you were the one to cast that Protego in my head, weren't you?"

' _He was in her head?!'_  The Gryffindor wizard exchanged equally wary looks with his bookworm friend. The only other person to enter their friend's mind was a maniacal, Dark Slytherin that was supposed to be dead. Regulus Black wasn't the same threat, of course- he was a sane, Dark Slytherin that was supposed to be dead- but Neville didn't like the sound of it. ' _We need a lot more Occlumency practice._ '

At the silver-eyed wizard's measured nod, Holly beamed, and some of Neville's worry ebbed. "I guess I have something else to thank you for then. I was about to faint from the pressure before you cast that shield."

Regulus shrugged. "It was impressive that you managed to withstand her assault until the dome formed. I didn't expect a Gryffindor to be capable of such willpower and mental strength."

"...Thank you?" Holly replied, "It's impressive that you went to such lengths to help a stranger. I didn't expect a Slytherin to be capable to such selflessness and human decency."

The ends of the Slytherin's lips quirked upward in a ghost of a smile. Neville recognized it as a faint expression more common to the practiced politicians in his family. "Aren't you family?"

The look on Holly Potter's face suggested that this was a line of thought that would be pursued never. Not for the first time, Neville wished that he could kidnap Holly to Longbottom Manor, burn Privet Drive to the ground, and for every single family-related fear that the Dursleys instilled in her. Steady silver-grey eye looked directly at the dark-haired witch and the Gryffindor wizard wondered what Regulus Black was thinking.

"Aren't you going to tell us about the first task, Holly?" Hermione asked, neatly diffusing the tension.

"Er, yeah. So I entered the tent where all of the other Champions were waiting and we talked a bit before Bagman came in. Ludo Bagman is the Head of Magical Games and Sports and one of the judges," Holly clarified for the Slytherin's benefit, "He had a bag of tiny dragons for us to pick from. I got Lily, so I was the second person to go. Bagman wanted to talk to me but Fleur- she's the Beauxbatons Champion- scared him off."

"Bagman wanted to speak to you? Do you know why?" Neville frowned when she shook her head, "Well it was a good idea not to go off alone with him. He's suspicious and we should definitely research him."

"I'll add it to the list." A piece of parchment and quill appeared before the brunette witch.

"I had to wait in the tent until Fleur was done and then a whistle signalled my turn," she continued, "I read the descriptions Regulus gave me beforehand and it turns out that Chinese Fireballs are famous in Muggle mythology as bringers of rainfall. Of course, that's because wizards cast weather spells to calm them down before approaching. They like to bathe in spring showers apparently."

"Then your variant of the  _Aguamenti_  charm was to relax her guard," Hermione deduced, "What about the jumping? I didn't see you cast any spells for that."

"He charmed my outfit for me," Holly pointed to the placid Slytherin, "The boots had weightless and propulsion runes all over them. They're awesome. I might just not give them back."

Regulus Black's mouth did that ghost twitch again, but this time Neville was almost positive that it was genuine. "You may keep them."

"Thanks! They made moving around the stadium much easier. The next part of the plan involved the Overseer's notes on how some of the dragons carried pearls with them. They tested one and found that its signature was a lot like the Patronus Charm, so it was probably a branch of soul magicks. I thought I could cast Prongs-"

"I'm sorry?" Regulus broke in with a look of disbelief, "You've  _named_  your Patronus…?"

"Yes. My father's Animagus form was a stag and his friends called him Prongs," Holly said calmly.

Seeing that the Slytherin had nothing else to say, she continued on. "Prongs was supposed to distract her but there's probably a lot more to these pearls than we know, because it just cantered up to the dragon and transformed. Into a pearl, that is."

"I  _know_  that we just saw that happen but I've never read of anything like that before," Hermione complained, one finger twirling around a frizzy curl and getting it even more tangled up. Neville had noticed that it was one of her signature habits when she was frustrated over not knowing something.

"Neither have I," Regulus' silver orbs gleamed. "Interesting."

"And dangerous," the Longbottom Scion quickly interjected. He was sitting with an adrenaline junkie, a closet mad scientist, and Regulus Black, who was looking like a cross between the two. With a group like that, someone needed to make sure that common sense prevailed. "You mentioned an attack?"

"When the dragon touched Prong's orb, I think some type of connection formed between our minds. The dragon's mind was so  _different_  and  _immense_  compared to mine, and it felt like a huge pressure was pushing down on me. I thought my liquefied brain would be pouring out of my ears."

"Liquified brain?" Hermione squeaked, paling. Tentatively, Neville reached out and squeezed her hand. He received a grateful smile in response.

' _Did shrinking her teeth really make Hermione's smile that much prettier?'_ It felt like a Flutterby bush had taken up residence in his stomach, which was ridiculous. They were friends; Neville had held her hand plenty of times. Case in point: The first task, when Hermione nearly crushed his fingers in worry.

"It was kind of amazing." An expression of wonder crossed the girl's face, "Like you said, Hermione, there's nothing written about it before. I feel like I had one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences, which, okay, we have every year but never with a dragon before!"

"We helped smuggle a Norwegian Ridgeback out of the country and not many first years can boast about that," Neville pointed out dryly. He politely ignored the horrified yet somehow resigned expression on the other wizard's face. No one forced him to make an Unbreakable Vow to protect her. "So you made some kind of bond with the dragon and it decided not to roast you since you were now best friends?"

"Not exactly," Holly admitted, "The pain was paralyzing me until Regulus somehow shielded my mind. Then I was able to  _talk_  the dragon. I asked her for the golden egg, she called it a false imposter, said that I was good for bringing rain, and told me I could have it. Then I managed to get back to my tent and fall unconscious."

Holly Potter felt that her explanation was straightforward and concise, but as three pairs of shocked eyes stared at her, she wondered if she hadn't missed something. "Any questions?"

"Yes!" Hermione's hand flashed into the air, "How did your Patronus forge a link between you and the dragon? How was Regulus able to shield your mind? How can a dragon even speak English?"

The other witch shrugged. "No clue. Any other questions?"

"I believe my connection to Miss- Holly's mind is due to our bond," the silver-eyed wizard offered, "I presume that the link worked similarly to Parseltongue and crossed any language barriers between Holly and the dragon. I am more concerned about whether or not your Patronus dispelled."

"Did I just trade my soul away to a  _dragon_?"

"Not at all," Hermione assured, "The Patronus Charm is merely a  _reflection_  of your soul. It's not actually powered by or a part of it."

"There are many powerful spells that use the soul as an anchor or base form without directly affecting it," Regulus continued, "My concern is whether the active spell will be a constant draw on your magic."

"I haven't felt any difference since I woke up," the girl considered it, "There's a small drain from Lily, I think, but otherwise, I'm fine. The dragon's prize was a golden egg with the clue for the next task. We might as well check it out."

' _Oh Merlin, I think we just found the perfect lullaby for the Mandrakes!'_  Neville's hands pressed against his ears as a haunting wail echoed around the chamber. ' _That was so damn painful._ '

"Sounds like Lavender's karaoke," Holly snickered, after she had slammed the lid closed, "All we need are some old issues of  _Witch Weekly_  and I can bribe my way through the next task."

"That's not funny," Hermione chided, "The first task involved dragons. We should look into other magical creatures to see if they make sounds like this."

"No need," Regulus Black grimaced, "My cousin came from a family of polyglots and one summer he decided to shriek everything to show off his Mermish. Put in the water to translate it."

Banishing the empty plates, he transfigured the table into a large barrel and moved his wand into the first stroke for an  _Aguamenti_. Before he could finish it, Holly's wand was pouring a steady stream into the rapidly filling container. The Slytherin drew his wand back, a look of uncertainty on his face that rapidly transformed to one of indifference.

Neville took a deep breath and ducked his head into the slightly cold water.

' _Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took._

_But past an hour - the prospect's black_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.'_

They played it one more time and when the brunette wizard finally brought his face up, one sleeve absentmindedly wiping the droplets away, he saw an upset Hermione. "They're taking a person."

"Most likely," Regulus agreed, "An item wouldn't have as much of an emotional impact."

"So it would be either Hermione and Neville," Holly chewed at her lip nervously for a second before looking earnestly between the two, "I want you to know that no matter who they choose, I like you both equally. You're  _both_  my best friends."

"That's nice but I'm not volunteering to be a merman's captive to prove our friendship," Neville responded, "Do you think we can convince them to take Malfoy down there? Then there won't be any loss if you break the time limit."

"I don't think even the Headmaster will buy an inter-house friendship between Holly and Malfoy," Hermione smiled mischievously, "Now  _McLaggen_  on the other hand..."

"Ooh, seeing that handsy tosser freeze his balls off would make this whole debacle worth it," Holly enthused, before making a face, "But then people might think I can stand him. Blech."

"Is gallows humor common with you three?"

Neville shrugged. "A bit of silliness can make it easier to deal with everything. Any ideas?"

"The Bubble Head Charm is a good way to breathe underwater," Hermione listed it down, "I'll look through Professor Lupin's notes on grindylows, hinkypunks, kappa, and other possible dangers."

"If you are planning to use the Bubblehead Charm, then silent casting would be another useful skill to learn," Regulus suggested, "We can practice down here in the chamber."

"Are you planning to stay here Regulus?" Neville thought that Holly looked a little too hopeful for an answer. He hoped his friend hadn't gotten too attached to their mysterious new helper; there were so few individuals that bothered to help them that Holly was inordinately grateful to each one.

Hermione also looked rather hopeful. It bothered him a little, even though he knew that the brilliant witch only wanted more tutoring sessions.

"I can sneak into Hogsmeade often enough to travel when I need to," the Slytherin replied, "I was able to purchase some provisions for myself and Sirius today, and have Kreacher deliver them to him. The expanded tent and food make living in the chamber easier and it would be easier to protect you from within the castle. So yes, I think I should stay here."

The dark-haired wizard reached into his pocket and withdrew a Gringotts key. "I'll have Sirius reimburse you for all the purchases."

"Don't you have a vault of your own?" Neville was puzzled. He was sure that a wizard from a family as wealthy as the Blacks would have a personal vault filled with galleons.

A dissatisfied look crossed the man's face. "Unfortunately the goblins transferred my gold to Sirius' vault at the anniversary of my 'death'."

"Then you should keep the key for future purchases," Holly pushed it back, "I don't need to access my vault during the school year and you'll be able to make another withdrawal after a week. I'm glad that Sirius has someone else looking after him. I didn't even remember to send any supplies!"

Regulus Black looked discomforted by the distress clearly written across her face. "You wouldn't have been able to purchase much from school anyway, so it's fine. Can you bring me some of the books for the Black Lake, Miss G- Hermione? I can help with the research."

' _I don't think Regulus Black could find a better way to make himself likable if he tried,'_ ' Neville considered, ' _I swear if he turns out to love Herbology and sponge cake too, then I'm cursing him.'_

x


	7. Chapter 7

It took four days before the Weasley Twins managed to track Holly down.

"You've been avoiding everyone," Fred accused, slipping one arm around her shoulder to keep her from moving away. "Upset, Holly-flower?"

"Wouldn't you be if most of the school considered you to be a liar and a cheat?" Holly asked, waving back at Neville as he headed on to Ancient Runes. "Have you gotten your gold back from Bagman?"

"No," the fierce scowl on Fred's face was quickly explained by his less temperamental half. "The man's been avoiding us for the last few weeks. We think he made a bad bet of his own with the goblins and doesn't have enough gold to pony up."

"You're definitely not getting your gold back then," the witch noted. "Sorry, boys, but the goblins are a heck of a lot scarier than you are."

"For now, maybe," Fred promised ominously. The Weasley's blue eyes focused on her then, a hint of the brotherly concern that they'd adopted after the mishap of Second Year returning. "Now come to our workshop, Hogwarts Champion, and tell good ol' Uncle Fred what the problem is."

"Well, it all started when I met these two devil-haired scamps on the Hogwarts Express," Holly said archly, a small grin breaking out as the twins bookmarked her on either side and dragged her to one of the hidden passages that they'd set their little workshop up in. She'd only visited once before when buying illicit potions ingredients for Polyjuice but it still had the same makeup as then.

Hidden behind heavy velvet curtains sewn over with the Ancient Runes equivalent of Notice-Me-Not and Obscurus charms was a workshop of wonders modelled a bit after the Headmaster's office. A crystal cabinet filled with tattered books and scores of notes stood far apart from a long table lined with half a dozen bubbling cauldrons of one potion or another. A cubby shelf held everything from a jar of shockingly pink slime to a tiny Blast-Ended Skrewt figurine that released multicolored bubbles from its stinger. There was even a phoenix plushie that was charmed to start squawking whenever anyone stepped on the pressure plates disillusioned on the floor outside. That last innovation had been the unintentional brainchild of Hermione, who was absolutely  _mortified_  after she learnt that her offhanded suggestion to improve security would aid in the twin's mischievous ways.

"We're thinking of a line of indestructible figurines to be tortured by frustrated students that can't turn their wands on the real deal," George explained, handing a skrewt figurine over. "They'll scream, bleed, cry, soil themselves and then promptly reassemble for future stress relief. Nothing better for when exam season comes around! The final line will include the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, of course, and maybe that French Veela chick for all the ladies in the castle."

"Keep off of Fleur. She's awesome," Holly ordered, fiddling around with the skrewt and hissing briefly in pain when those shimmering rainbow bubbles proved mildly acidic. George quickly swiped it from her hand. "Can you enlarge that one? Hagrid would love it."

"One giant-sized skrewt figurine for the only man not to follow intended use," Fred agreed. Holly's hand moved towards her robe pocket but was stopped by a shake of shaggy red hair. "No gold. We want answers."

"Normally that's Hermione's forte but knock yourself out," the dark-haired witch shrugged. "Fair warning. I don't know exactly what happened with that dragon either."

"Is that why you're using that invisibility cloak of yours to play keep away from the rest of the castle?"

"It's one of the reasons," Holly allowed. While public opinion of her had changed drastically since the end of the first task, the orphaned girl hadn't forgotten those that stood by her loyally and those that had not. She'd much preferred to spend her time with the former and all but shunned her housemates to take meals and lessons with the aloof Slytherin wizard hiding in her hidden chamber. A heartbeat later, her cheeks flushed red as she realized the dual meaning of her words.

Fred naturally pounced on that. "Are you blushing?!"

"I don't have a boyfriend. Your despicable habit of gambling on my love life's still safe," Holly assured. "Honestly, I'm upset because for the second time in four years, most of the school turned on me for something that was never my fault. Even my housemates, who should  _know_  better, think I cheated my way into that blasted tournament. Just because they're celebrating it instead of condemning me doesn't mean that I'm not being branded a liar by them too."

Fred and George exchanged sheepish looks and turned to her. "Sorry," they chorused.

"We knew you wouldn't have done that, Holly-flower-"

"Too well-behaved by half, really-"

"But we didn't think of how it would affect you."

"Too excited to be the House of the Hogwarts Champion, I suppose."

"Can you ever forgive us, oh, valiant-"

"Powerful."

"Awe-inspiring."

" _Merciful_ dragon tamer?"

Holly laughed. "At least you two jokers apologized for it. I forgive you."

"Seriously though, are you alright?" Worry was written across George's features. "That dragon was no joke. It could have eaten you in one bite and still have had plenty of room left in its mouth for more."

Holly eyed him suspiciously. "Is that another crack about my height?"

"You'll grow up eventually, moppet," the tall, gangly redhead ruffled her black locks.

"I'm doing as well as can be expected," the youngest Champion shrugged. "Hermione and Neville have both been great and Fleur's a lovely surprise. She's been glaring daggers at Bagman whenever he tries to act sketchy with me." At their alarmed looks, she quickly added. "Not that way! I think he's gambled on me winning this and wanted to slip some help on the side. Not that Fleur believes me."

"With how innocent you are, moppet, that might be for the best," Fred said seriously. "I didn't know you and the French Veela were friends though."

"We're not but I should look into changing that." The dark-haired witch made a mental note to invite the other witch to breakfast or something. She'd been taking most meals in the chamber but Neville had a key to the greenhouses and one of the smaller ones didn't have any dangerous plants inside. "Since I'm here though, I was wondering if I could ask for help with something?"

"You command, mistress, and we obey," was the cheeky answer. Holly rolled her eyes, took out the little pocketbook Regulus and Hermione had scribbled over and perched on one of the chintz armchairs. "Hermione decided that I needed a little Champion's Corner when dealing with the tasks. The next one will be in the lake stealing something, or likely,  _someone_ , back from the mermaids and while I'll be using my wand for most of it, a few inventions wouldn't hurt. Anything to keep me warm in the frigid waters of the Black Lake in February would be much appreciated."

"We can do that," Fred said after some contemplation. "Spells against water resistance, a reinforced bubble head on the hood, a spotlight charm added to your wrist, maybe, there are lots of options."

"Fantastic," Holly chirped. This time she  _did_  reach into her pockets and, ignoring their protests, shoved at least a dozen galleons into their hands. "This can be your initial research budget but you'll have to work with a partner on the project."

"No problem. Where can we expect the lovely Miss Granger?"

"Oh, not her," Holly deflected. "She's working on spells that I can use underwater. This partnership will have to be done by correspondence and Hedwig's the only owl that can reach the madman."

George's eyebrows crept up. "We're interested."

"His name is Padfoot," Holly revealed with a mischievous look in her own leaf-green eyes. "Not the easiest of men to work with but- Oomph!"

The dark-haired witch suddenly found herself plucked straight out of her armchair- damn, her slender form!- and tightly squeezed between two redhead teen wizards. Then she was suddenly spun around and around by whom she assumed was Fred as George cheerfully caterwauled his twin on. Finally, a rather dizzy green-eyed girl was dropped back on her chair. As she tried to get her scattered thoughts in order, Holly became aware of twin bookmarks bowing on the floor before her.

"We are not worthy! We are not worthy!"

"Idiots," Holly slurred head lolling back on her chair. She needed a less embarrassing support group.

x

Hermione Granger closed her eyes, reached deeply into her core for the last dregs of her magic, focused intently on the handkerchief before her and intoned, " _Adspiro."_

A light blue sheen crossing over the cloth showed that her spell had taken hold and when the brunette witch picked up the handkerchief and brought it to her mouth, she could breath in crisp cold oxygen unlike the stale air of the chamber. An unbidden smile crossed her mouth at the success. She wasn't as natural at charms as Holly or Neville were but she'd still successfully cast the spell on her first try!

"Hermione, you did it!" Neville's excited voice drew her attention and soon she was met with warm hazel eyes as her friend grinned brightly at her. She returned it with a smile of her own, stomach flipping a little in pleasure as he averted his gaze, a small blush on his cheeks. The brunette wizard's altruistic good will for whenever either of his friends succeeded in a spell had always been one of his best qualities in her opinion. She never forgot the time he rounded on one of their classmates, Ron Weasley, for berating her on her spellcasting in Halloween of their first year.

Hermione didn't quite know what…  _this_ , was between them but she wasn't the smartest witch of her year for nothing. She suspected that she did have a crush of sorts, a strong one, on her best male friend and that Neville reciprocated in some way. It wasn't entirely a surprise that he did, as studies did show that friendships were likely to escalate to romantic entanglements in adolescents but Hermione was a little guiltily thrilled that he'd chosen her. Holly, with her dark pixie locks, elfin features and impossibly bright green eyes, would have been a more likely target in most people's minds, especially considering the other witch's athletic prowess, mischievous nature and admirable courage for standing up for either of her friends. Houses Potter and Longbottom had been allied for generations too and Hermione knew that half the school was expecting the last two scions of those Houses, already best friends, to become the perfect Light couple in a few years.

Neville didn't like Holly though, at least not as more than a little sister, he liked  _her_! And  _she_  liked  _him_. The question remained on where they'd go from there.

Judging from Holly's not-at-all subtle abandonment of them during trips to Hogsmeade, her best female friend's approval was won. The problem was that Hermione didn't know if she should try for anything more than a friendship there. No matter how supportive Holly was, this would significantly change the dynamics of the trio's friendship and, should the relationship not work out, make everything awkward for  _everyone_. James and Lily Potter may have had that once-in-a-lifetime romance and Franklin and Alice Longbottom may have been childhood sweethearts but Hermione knew the statistics! She didn't want to lose one of her best friends for a date or two that could work out disastrously- and it's not like she had much knowledge of dating, so that  _would_  happen- and she didn't want to risk the closeness they all had. Besides this would be an awful time to date. Holly had all of her problems with the Tournament and Regulus Black, who was a lovely tutor but otherwise not a trustworthy figure  _at all_ , and Professor Babbling had already assigned Runes partners for the year. What if they broke up? Hermione couldn't just find herself a  _new_  partner!

"Are you worried about them too?" Neville whispered in her ear, making her jump. She blamed that shock for the sudden beating of her heart and not that those hazel eyes were now  _far too close_.

The brunette nodded to where the dark-haired wizard was helping their friend work through the movements for the next step of the Bubblehead Charm. It turned out that the best way to learn was a process, involving a series of spells, each one step further to creating a miniature and contained atmosphere of stabilized oxygen around the caster. Holly accomplished the third step now, conjuring a glass fish bowl around her head and crossing her eyes in an attempt to mimic a goldfish. Regulus Black was staring at her, lips twitching, while attempting to project disapproval.

Holly pouted at the lack of laughter and stuck her tongue out at him. It was just adorable enough to break out a smile that transformed all of his features from forebodingly handsome wizard to one breathtakingly gorgeous and somehow even less accessible. ' _If this is how Sirius looked before Azkaban, I now understand why Holly's sex talk included an entire half hour on contraceptives and potions to deal with the occasional scratchy crotch.'_

Reminders of the informative magical sex talk, that he'd given to all  _three_  of them by the fire in the Gryffindor common room before the First Task, had the curly-haired witch peek at Neville again. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing against Black but Holly does get attached quickly," Neville reminded her.

"I'll talk to her tonight." Hermione answered in a low tone. Honestly, she could see a little of what had Neville concerned now. Their best friend was offering a shy grin to the Dark wizard that was returned by a smaller smile. She hoped this wasn't any indication of a crush. Regulus Black was a handsome wizard but even if his body didn't show it, he was much older than Holly, and more dangerous to boot. "At least it's not Malfoy."

There'd been a few rumors of sexual tension between the rivals that Hermione wasn't entirely certain wasn't true on the Slytherin's side of the equation. "Have you finished your spell?"

"Not yet. Help me?" Nevile's shy smile made that stomach-flipping sensation occur again. Being the sensible witch that she was, Hermione promptly shoved any warm feelings away and focused on teaching him. The Triwizard Tournament was a terrible time to start dating for either Holly  _or_  her.

x

' _This is the man I model my behavior after now,_ ' Regulus deadpanned, watching the older dark-haired wizard scarf down his chicken legs with embarrassing enthusiasm. It would have been acceptable had this been the first proper meal he had had in months but he'd been careful to feed, and overcharge, his brother for the fortnight since the Task ended. "Have you drawn up an identity for myself?"

A thumb's up was his response until the gaunt man could wipe the grease away from his lips. He was about to use his sleeve to do so until a sharp look from the younger Black had him turn to a tissue instead, as was proper. It  _hurt_  his heart to see Regulus' proud older brother reduced to this skeleton of a wizard but there was a thin strip of fat around his cheekbones now and form-fitting robes hiding skin that hadn't gotten proper sunlight for years. As for the atrocious manners… well, they weren't much different from Sirius' normal habits as a teenager in Gryffindor House as Regulus recollected.

' _We were both frozen in time,_ ' Regulus considered grimly. ' _Neither of us allowed to mature for over a decade but where his scars are visible to the world, mine are not.'_

"The goblins were the same right old bastards that they always are," Sirius said fondly. "At least that never changes. Charged me two whole galleons to add a family member to my own tree! Can you believe that?"

Regulus conveyed with his arched brows that yes, he  _did_  believe such outrageous knut-gouging could occur with the warrior race. "You have access to your accounts now, brother, and  _my gold_. I'm sure you could afford the process."

If there was any bitterness to his tone over his lost monetary assets, they were dispelled quickly by a Gringotts key tossed to his hand. Regulus' eyes widened as a silver-toned gazed swiftly assessed the smooth metal and found etchings that amounted to  _full_ access of all Black accounts. "Brother?"

"Second cousin, actually," Sirius corrected lazily. He reached into his robe pockets and withdrew a scroll wrapped in a Gryffindor red ribbon. "I've already made you and Holly joint beneficiaries in my will, excepting for a few bequests to family, friends and of course, my newfound pranking proteges."

"For Gryffindors that consider pranking the finest art form in the world, they surprisingly capable with magic," Regulus murmured distractedly, as he unrolled the scroll. He was relieved to skim through and find that his Pureblood status remained with Hesper Licorus Black as his father and a witch of the Norwegian Halvorsen family as his mother. It wasn't until he landed on his own name that he remembered why he desired to throttle his brother half the time, even now. " _Sirius Orion Black!"_

"Leonis Marius Black!" Sirius gleefully shouted back. Scrambling back, he took out his wand and cast a  _Protego_  against the four or five splashes of light that were soon to hit him. "For the constellation, Leo, with its brightest star, Regulus, and after your grandfather, Marius Black!"

"You. Named. Me After.  _The Lion Star_ ," Regulus snarled out, jumping up. " _Entomorphis! Densaugeo! Redactum Skullus!_ Stand still, dammit!"

"Not if you're cursing me!" Sirius yelped out as the shoe-sticking hex took hold and then a curse to make him bald hit soon after. Regulus cast a pimple-faced curse next and then had all of them pop at once. "Not the face, not the face! Ow! Show mercy, Reggie!"

"Mercy," Regulus hissed indignantly. "You think that you deserve any  _mercy_  after saddling me with such a name?"

"Yes!" Sirius untangled himself from the biting vines cutting into his skin, banishing them a moment later. "I named you that for a joke, yes, but also because you're the  _bravest man I know_ , brother."

The dark-haired wizard stilled, features becoming perfectly blank under a mask of Pureblood hauteur. "What?" he whispered.

"Except for James and Lily and Holly," Sirius began, a grimace on his face as he recalled his fallen friends. "Except for them, you're the first one to strike an honest-to-Merlin blow against the Dark Tosser. You acidified a piece of the Dark Lord's  _soul_ , Reggie, can you believe that? My little brother, single-handedly weakened Great Britain's in a way that no one has done before or ever since really. I'm  _proud_  of you, Reggie."

"Oh." He felt terribly inadequate to respond to that. His older brother was  _proud_  of him. "Miss Potter did that same though."

"Yeah, she did," Sirius grinned warmly. "But she's my goddaughter. I expect awesome things from her. I just never thought you would…"

"Find my courage?" Regulus suggested, slowly returning back to his seat.

"Eh, not the kindest thing to say but pretty much," Sirius shrugged. "I didn't think you would ever find that sort of courage to attack the Dark Tosser directly but you did and I'm proud of you for it. That's the reason why I gave you that name, so you could always remember that underneath that snakeskin lies the heart of a lion too."

Unsure whether he should be touched or offended, Regulus Black merely nodded.

"And of course, it was hilarious," his brother snickered. "Mother must be rolling around in her grave now… OW!"

"Don't speak ill of the dead," Regulus intoned, taking a far more polite bite of his own meal as he addressed the oversized umbrella stand that his brother had become. Taking inspiration from their childhood, he felt that troll leg look really did serve the jester well. ' _At least I have an identity of my own. With a public name and access to gold, these plans can move a lot more swiftly now._ '

x

Omake

Regulus Black took in a deep breath, summoned the limited amount of courage that he had available to him and turned a dark stone over in his hands thrice. A minute trickle of his magic was drawn when two shimmering figures appeared before him. To the left was the tall, messy-haired and bespectacled James Potter, to the right, the slim, flame-haired and green-eyed Lily Potter and together, the two were the source of his anxiety today.

" _Regulus Black,"_  Lily Potter spoke first. " _You called us?"_

"I did." The dark-haired Slytherin bowed his head in respect. "I would like to have your blessings to marry your daughter."

There was a moment of silence before Regulus looked up to the ghostly apparitions. James Potter's face was inscrutable but Lily Potter's oval-shaped one had broken into a gentle smile. " _You don't need our permission to ask for Holly's hand in marriage."_

"Nonetheless, I would like to have it," the Black said firmly. He had great respect for courtship traditions and even more so for the brave martyrs before him. Holly Potter may indeed marry him with or without her family's permission but temporary death, tricky rituals and magic-enforced vows aside, he wanted to do this right.

" _I mean that we have observed you from the afterlife and already know how much you love our daughter,"_ Lily corrected. " _You have our blessings."_

" _Speak for yourself,"_ James Potter interjected. " _I'm not satisfied with him yet."_

" _James!_ " His wife looked scandalized.

The ghostly man merely folded his arms stubbornly. " _As her father, it's my right to choose whether or not I'll give my blessings, Lily."_

"Is there any way that I can change your mind, Lord Potter?" Regulus inquired. Holly would be heartbroken to know that her father disapproved of their relationship and the Slytherin was determined to prevent that. Some way or another, he  _would_  earn James Potter's approval.

The evil grin on the man's face when he turned to look at him lessened that firm belief though.

" _As a matter of fact, you can,"_ James Potter chirped. " _You just need to perform twelve minor tasks to prove that you have the qualities admired most in House Potter!_ "

" _James Charlus Potter!"_

" _Don't be jealous that you didn't think of making him run errands for you first, darling."_

"Like Hercules' Twelve Labors?" Regulus interjected, not wanting his appeal to be lost in a fight.

" _Exactly like that,"_ the Marauder beamed, " _Only instead of twelve pointless jobs, you'll have to prank twelve targets of my own choosing."_

The Slytherin looked at him bemusedly. This adhering to tradition business appeared more and more troublesome by the minute. "You want me to… prank people for you?"

" _It shows cleverness, ingenuity, daring and magical skill,"_  his hopefully future father-in-law insisted.

"I see," Regulus sighed, "Tell me about the targets, Lord Potter."

(...)

Holly Potter wrinkled her nose as she felt cool air tickling her cheeks. Had Regulus left the window open again? She tried to roll around to nuzzle further into the warm body of her boyfriend- if he left the damn window open then he could deal with her stealing his body heat- when she found that she couldn't move. A thick fabric was pressed around her arms and when she opened her eyes, it was to her panic that she saw complete darkness.

Holly Potter did not like the dark. The ceiling of their bedroom was painted with softly glowing stars for that exact reason.

Holding her breathing still, the witch attempted to move her head around and peer through slits in her eyes. To her confusion, the encompassing darkness seemed to give away to… leather?

"Holly?" Regulus' familiar voice added to her confusion, as she felt his hands readjust her body. Leaf-green eyes blinked up to a handsome wizard with raven-dark hair and silver-grey eyes.

"Regulus? Where are we?" She had been laid on something hard but warm. It felt almost living the way it thrummed beneath her.

"We're on my brother's blasted motorcycle," Regulus' face withdrew from her sight but then her body was pulled up into a mostly upright position against his chest. "I apologize but I couldn't safely secure you to my broom when you were unconscious."

"Why are we on Sirius' motorcycle?"

"Ah, well, I used the stone to ask your parents for their blessing," Regulus said, as if that explained anything. "Your mother gave it to me rather easily but your father wanted to complete a list of tasks before he would bless our relationship."

"Okay?" It was sweet that he would ask her parents but that still didn't clear her confusion.

"I wanted to do this right." For some reason, her boyfriend's tone sounded apologetic. "As strange as our relationship is, I didn't want to deprive you of the proper traditions that should follow a courtship."

The Gryffindor's cheeks felt hot and she knew that if it was daylight, it'd look like she consumed six Pepper-ups in quick succession. "You- you didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," Regulus assured, "Except the tasks themselves were rather absurd and I refused to prank the Chief Auror on your father's say-so. Instead I decided that the traditions I was following were too modern for us."

"I don't think I follow."

"Were you aware that historically the stolen daughters of feuding clans would become the brides of their enemies following a raid?"

"Then you're planning to-"

"Kidnap you from your home, sweep you off to a Scottish druid and force you to marry me at wand point? Yes, but only if you're willing to accept it."

"I see," Holly closed her eyes. "Okay. Fine. Whatever. Just wake me up when we get there."

(...)

Two figures watched them from above.

" _Are you happy with yourself now?"_

" _Absolutely."_

" _Really James? You pushed our daughter into an elopement!"_

" _Exactly! I forced a list of prank targets on him and my future son-in-law brilliantly turned around and decided to prank me instead. I'm so proud of him."_

" _Are you going to pretend that this was part of your plan all along to save face?"_

" _I have no idea what you're talking about, Lily-flower."_

x


End file.
